UC-NRI 


3DD 


AUTHOR  OF  A  FOOL'S  ERRAND 


- 


BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 


•  Uniloubtfdly  th;  chief  sf  American  writers." — TROY  SENTINEL. 


BY    THE    SAME    AUTHOR: 

A    FOOL'S    ERRAND.     A  NOVEL.     By  One  ef  the  Fools.     Hand 
somely  bound.     Cloth,  $i. 

"It  is  nothing  less  than  an  extraordinary  work.  In  matter,  it  is  in 
tensely  interesting  ;  in  manner,  it  is  forcible  and  vivid  to  a  rare  degree. 
English  literature  contains  no  similar  picture,  as,  indeed,  probably  no 
material  at  once  eo  picturesque  and  so  terrible  has  ever  been  offered  by 
any  society  with  which  English  writers  have  dealt.1' 

I'  It  is  for  its  historical  value  that  the  book  will  be  read,  but  the  causes 
which  have  made  it  worth  reading  on  this  side  have  conspired  to  render 
it  also  a  strong  piece  of  novel-work."—  The  Atlantic  Monthly. 

THE   STORY    OF    AN   EARNEST    MAN. 

FIGS    AND   THISTLES.     A    ROMANCK   OF   THE  WESTERN   RE 
SERVE.    U'ith  Frontispiece  Illustration.    Handsome  lamo.    Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Crowded  with  incident,  populous  with  strong  characters,  simple  but 
ingenious  in  plot,  rich  with  the  humor  of  the  West,  and  from  beginning 
to  t-nd  alive  with  absorbing  interest,  this  book  cannot  fail  to  sustain  and 
extend  the  author's  name  as  a  popular  writer  of  fiction."— Boston  Com- 
inonu'ealth. 


FORDS,  HOWARD,  &  HULBKRT, 

i>7  Park  Place,  New  York. 


For  Sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  mailed,  postpaid,  on  receipt 


ERRATUM. — On  page  343  :  "  The  poor  man's  war  and 
the  rich  man's  fight"  should  read  "The  rich  man's  war 
and  the  poor  man's  fight." 


BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW 


A  Novel 


15Y 

ALBION   W.  TOURGEE,  LL.D, 

LATE  JUDGE  OF  THE  SUPERIOR  COURT  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA,  AUTHOR  OF 

"A     Fool's    Errand"     "Fig's    and    Thistles" 

"The  Cede,  -with  Notes"  etc. 


k  Co  therefore  now,  and  work  ;  for  there  shall  no  straw  be  given  you,  yet  shall 
ye  deliver  the  tale  of  bricks  " — EXODUS  v.  18. 


NEW  YORK: 
FORDS,     HOWARD,     &     HULBERT 

LONDON:  SAMPSON  Low  &  Co.   MONTREAL:  DAWSON  BROS. 


(All  Rights  Reserved] 


COPYRIGHT,  A.D.  1880, 

In  the  United  States,  Canada  and  Great  Britain, 
BY  ALBION  W.  TOURGEE. 


i 


THIS    VOLUME 
I     GRATEFULLY     DEDICATE 


TO     WHOSE     UNFLINCHING     COURAGE, 
UNFALTERING   FAITH,  UNFAILING   CHEER, 

AND    STEADFAST    LOVE, 

I    OWE    MORE    THAN    MANY    VOLUMES 

MIGHT    DECLARE. 


478744 


TRANSLATION  : 

[From  an  ancient  Eg)>ptian  Papyrus-Roll,  recently  discovered, .] 

IT  came  to  pass  that  when  Pharaoh  had  made 
an  end  of  giving  commandment  that  the  children 
of  Israel  should  deliver  the  daily  tale  of  bricks, 
but  should  not  be  furnished  with  any  straw 
wherewith  to  make  them,  but  should  instead  go 
into  the  fields  and  gather  such  stubble  as  might 
be  left  therein,  that  Neoncapos,  the  king's  jester, 
laughed. 

And  when  he  was  asked  whereat  he  laughed, 
he  answered,  At  the  king's  order. 

And  thereupon  he  laughed  the  more. 

Then  was  Pharaoh,  the  king,  exceeding  wroth, 
and  he  gave  commandment  that  an  owl  be  given 
to  Neoncapos,  the  king's  jester,  and  that  he  be  set 
forth  without  the  gate  of  the  king's  palace,  and 
that  he  be  forbidden  to .  return,  or  to  speak  to 
any  in  all  the  land,  save  only  unto  the  owl  .which 
had  been  given  him,  until  such  time  as  the  bird 
should  answer  and  tell  him  what  he  should  say. 

Then  they  that  stood  about  the  king,  and  all 
who  saw  Neoncapos,  cried  out,  What  a  fool's 
errand  is  this !  So  that  the  saying  remains  even 
unto  this  day. 

Nevertheless,  upon  the  next  day  came  Neon 
capos  again  into  the  presence  of  Pharaoh,  the 
king. 

Then  was  Pharaoh  greatly  astonished,  and  he 
said,  How  is  this?  Hath  the  bird  spoken? 


And  Neoncapos,  the  king's  jester,  bowed  him 
self  unto  the  earth,  and  said,  He  hath,  my  lord. 

Then  was  Pharaoh,  the  king,  filled  with  amaze 
ment,  and  said,  Tell  me  what  he  hath  said  unto 
thee. 

And  Neoncapos  raised  himself  before  the  king, 
and  answered  him,  and  said  : 

As  I  went  out  upon  the  errand  whereunto  thou 
hadst  sent  me  forth,  I  remembered  thy  command 
ment  to  obey  it.  And  I  spake  only  unto  the  bird 
which  thou  gavest  me,  and  said  unto  him  : 

There  was  a  certain  great  king  which  held  a 
people  in  bondage,  and  set  over  them  task 
masters,  and  required  of  them  all  the  bricks  that 
they  could  make,  man  for  man,  and  day  by  day  ; 

For  the  king  was  in  great  haste  seeking  to 
build  a  palace  which  should  be  greater  and  nobler 
than  any  in  the  world,  and  should  remain  to  him 
self  and  his  children  a  testimony  of  his  glory  for 
ever. 

And  it  came  to  pass,  at  length,  that  the  king 
gave  commandment  that  no  more  straw  should 
be  given  unto  them  that  made  the  bricks,  but 
that  they  should  still  deliver  the  talc  which  had 
been  aforetime  required  of  them. 

And  thereupon  the  king's  jester  laughed. 

Because  he  said  to  himself,  If  the  laborers  have 
not  straw  wherewith  to  attemper  the  clay,  but 
only  stubble  and  chaff  gathered  from  the  fields, 
will  not  the  bricks  be  ill-made  and  lack  strength 
and  symmetry  of  form,  so  that  the  wall  made 
thereof  will  not  be  true  and  strong,  or  fitly  joined 
together  ? 


For  the  lack  of  a  little  straw  it  may  be  that  the 
palace  of  the  great  king  will  fall  upon  him  and 
all  his  people  that  dwell  therein.  Thereupon 
the  king  was  wroth  with  his  fool,  and  his  counten 
ance  was  changed,  and  he  spake  harshly  unto 
him,  and — 

It  matters  not  what  thou  saidst  unto  the  bird, 
said  the  king.  What  did  the  bird  say  unto  thee  ? 

The  bird,  said  Neoncapos,  bowing  himself  low 
before  the  king,  the  bird,  my  lord,  looked  at  me 
in  great  amaze,  and  cried  again  and  again,  in  an 
exceeding  loud  voice  :  Who  !  Who-o  !  WJio-o-o  f 

Then  was  Pharaoh  exceeding  wrroth,  and  his 
anger  burned  within  him,  and  he  commanded  that 
the  fool  should  be  taken  and  bound  with  cords, 
and  cast  into  prison,  while  he  should  consider  of 
a  fit  punishment  for  his  impudent  words. 


NOTE. — A  script  attached  to  this  manuscript, 
evidently  of  later  date,  informs  us  that  the  fool 
escaped  the  penalty  of  his  folly  by  the  disaster  at 
the  Red  Sea. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  *AGB 

I.    TRI-NOMINATE, 7 

II.  THE  FONT " 

III.  THE  JUNONIAN  RITE, 25 

IV.  MARS  MEDDLES 29 

V.  NUNC  PRO  TUNC 34 

VI.  THE  TOGA  VIRILIS, 41 

VII.  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS, 51 

VIII.  A  FRIENDLY  PROLOGUE, 60 

IX.  A  BRUISED  REED, 65 

X.  AN  EXPRESS  TRUST 72 

XI.  RED  WING 79 

XII.  ON  THE  WAY  TO  JERICHO, 5g 

XIII.  NEGOTIATING  A  TREATY 100 

XIV.  BORN  OF  THE  STORM, 106 

XV.  To  HIM  AND  His  HEIRS  FOREVER,      .        .        .  n? 

XVI.  A  CHILD  OF  THE  HILLS, 122 

XVII.    GOOD-MORROW   AND    FAREWELL,  .  .  .126 

XVIII.  "PRIME  WRAPPERS," 136 

XIX.  THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  FLAG 147 

XX.  PHANTASMAGORIA,                  161 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.  A  CHILD-MAN, 165 

XXII.  How  THE  FALLOW  WAS  SEEDED,    .        .        .175 

XXIII.  AN  OFFERING  OF  FIRST-FRUITS,      .        .        .182 

XXIV.  A  BLACK  DEMOCRITUS, 189 

XXV.  A  DOUBLE-HEADED  ARGUMENT,       .        .        .  197 

XXVI.  TAKEN  AT  His  WORD, 204 

XXVII.  MOSES  IN  THE  SUNSHINE,         ....  217 

XXVIII.  IN  THE  PATH  OF  THE  STORM,          .        .        .  223 

XXIX.  LIKE  AND  UNLIKE, 228 

XXX.  AN  UNBIDDEN  GUEST, 238 

XXXI.  A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE,          .         .        .         .        .  243 

XXXII.  A  VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS,       .        .        .  248 

XXXIII.  A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION,     ....  257 

XXXIV.  THE  MAJESTY  OF  THE  LAW,    .        .        .        .265 
XXXV.  A  PARTICULAR  TENANCY  LAPSES,     .        .        .  273 

XXXVI.  THE  BEACON-LIGHT  OF  LOVE,          .        .        .  277 

XXXVII.  THE  "BEST  FRIENDS"  REVEAL  THEMSELVES,.  288 

XXXVIII.  "THE  ROSE  ABOVE  THE  MOULD,"  .        .        .  296 

XXXIX.  WHAT  THE  MIST  HID 304 

XL.  DAWNING, 312 

XLI.   Q.  E.   D., 316 

XLII.  THROUGH  A  CLOUD-RIFT,         ....  322 

XLIII.  A  GLAD  Gooo-Bv, 327 

XLIV.  PUTTING  THIS  AND  THAT  TOGETHER,     .        .  331 

XLV.  ANOTHER  Ox  GORED, 341 

XLVI.  BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD,       .        .        .        .  351 

XLVII.  BREASTING  THE  TORRENT 361 

XLVIII.  THE  PRICE  OF  HONOR, 369 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XLIX.  HIGHLY  RESOLVED, 378 

L.  FACE  ANSWERETII  UNTO  FACE 386 

LI.  How  SLEEP  THE  BRAVE? 399 

LI  I.  REDEEMED  OUT  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  BONDAGE,     .  406 

LI  1 1.  IN  THE  CYCLONE 4II 

LIV.  A  BOLT  OUT  OF  THE  CLOUD 423 

LV.  AN  UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER,  ....  437 

LVI.  SOME  OLD  LETTERS,       ......  443 

LVII.  A  SWEET  AND  BITTER  FRUITAGE,         .        .        .  456 

LVI  1 1.  COMING  TO  THE  FRONT,         .....  467 

LIX.  THE  SHUTTLECOCK  OF  FATE,         ....  477 

LX.  THE  EXODIAN,         .......  487 

LXI.  WHAT  SHALL  THE  END  BE?         .        .        .        .501 

LXII.   How? 5II 


BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 


CHAPTER   I. 

TRI-NOMINATE. 

"  WAL,  I  'clar,  now,  jes  de  quarest  ting  ob  'bout  all 
dis  matter  o'  freedom  is  de  way  dat  it  sloshes  roun' 
de  names  'mong  us  cullud  folks.  H'yer  I  lib  ober 
on  de  Hyco  twenty  year  er  mo' — nobody  but  ole 
Marse  Potem  an'  de  Lor',  an'  p'raps  de  Debbie  beside, 
know  'zackly  how  long  it  mout  hev  been — an'  didn't 
hev  but  one  name  in  all  dat  yer  time.  An'  I  didn't  hev 
no  use  for  no  mo'  neither,  kase  dat  wuz  de  one  ole  Mahs'r 
gib  me  hisself,  an'  nobody  on  de  libbin'  yairth  nebber 
hed  no  sech  name  afo'  an'  nebber  like  to  agin.  Dat  wuz 
allers  de  way  ub  ole  Mahs'r's  names.  Dey  used  ter  say 
dat  he  an'  de  Debbie  made  'em  up  togedder  while  he 
wuz  dribin'  roun'  in  dat  ole  gig  'twixt  de  diffent  plan 
tations — on  de  Dan  an'  de  Ro'noke,  an'  all  'bout  whar 
de  ole  cuss  could  fine  a  piece  o'  cheap  Ian',  dat  would 
do  ter  raise  niggers  on  an'  pay  for  bringin'  up,  at  de  same 
time.  He  was  a  powerful  smart  man  in  his  day,  wuz  ole 
Kunnel  Potem  Desmit  ;  but  he  speshully  did  beat  any- 
thin'  a  fmdin'  names  fer  niggers.  I  reckon  now,  ef  he'd 
'a  hed  forty  thousan'  cullud  folks,  men  an'  wimmen,  dar 
wouldn't  ha'  been  no  two  on  'em  hevin'  de  same  name. 


D£t's: tfhat  'folks  usbd  xef -say  'bout  him,  ennyhow.  Dey 
sed  h£  used  leVsay  e'Z'ttow  he  wasn't  gwine  ter  hev  his 
niggers  mixed  up  wid  nobody  else's  namin',  an'  he 
wouldn't  no  mo'  'low  ob  one  black  feller  callin'  ob  anud- 
der  by  enny  nickname  ner  nothin'  ub  dat  kine,  on  one  o' 
his  plantations,  dan  he  would  ob  his  takin'  a  mule,  nary 
bit.  Dey  du  say  dat  when  he  used  ter  buy  a  boy  er  gal 
de  berry  fust  ting  he  wuz  gwine  ter  du  \vuz  jes  ter  hev 
'em  up  an'  gib  'em  a  new  name,  out  'n  out,  an'  a  clean 
suit  ob  close  ter  'member  it  by  ;  an'  den,  jes  by  way  ob 
a  little  'freshment,  he  used  ter  make  de  oberseer  gib 
'em  ten  er  twenty  good  licks,  jes  ter  make  sure  ob  der 
fergittin*  de  ole  un  dat  dey'd  hed  afo'.  Dat's  what  my 
mammy  sed,  an*  she  allers  'clar'd  dat  tow'rd  de  las'  she 
nebber  could  'member  what  she  was  at  de  fus'  no  more'n 
ef  she  hed'nt  been  de  same  gal 

"  All  he  wanted  ter  know  'bout  a  nigger  wuz  jes  his 
name,  an'  dey  say  he  could  tell  straight  away  when  an' 
whar  he  wuz  born,  whar  he'd  done  lived,  an'  all  'bout  him. 
He  war  a  powerful  man  in  der  way  ob  names,  shore. 
Some  on  'em  wuz  right  quare,  but  den  agin  mos'  all  on  'em 
wuz  right  good,  an'  it  war  powerful  handy  hevin'  no  two 
on 'em  alike.  I've  heard  tell  dat  a  heap  o'  folks  wuz 
a  takin'  up  wid  his  notion,  an'  I  reckon  dat  ef  de 
s'rrender  hed  only  stood  off  long  'nuff  dar  wouldn't  'a 
been  nary  two  niggers  in  de  whole  State  hevin'  de  same 
names.  Dat  would  hev  been  handy,  all  roun'  ! 

"  When  dat  come,  though,  old  Mahs'r's  plan  warn't 
nowhar.  Lor'  bress  my  soul,  how  de  names  did  come 
a-brilin*  roun'  !  I'd  done  got  kinder  used  ter  mine,  hevin' 
hed  it  so  long  an'  nebber  knowin'  myself  by  any  udder, 
so't  I  didn't  like  ter  change.  'Sides  dat,  I  couldn't 
see  no  use.  I'd  allers  got  'long  well  'nuff  wid  it— all 
on'y  jes  once,  an'  dat  ar  wuz  so  long  ago  I'd  nigh  about 


TRI-NOMINA  TE.  9 

forgot  it.      Dat  showed  what  a  debblish  cute  plan  dat  uv 
ole  MahsVs  was,  though. 

"  Lemme  see,  dat  er  wuz  de  fus  er  secon'  year  atter  I 
wuz  a  plow-boy.  Hit  wuz  right  in  de  height  ob  de  season, 
an'  Marse  War' — dat  was  de  oberseer — he  sent  me  to  der 
Cou't  House  ob  an  ebenin'  to  do  some  sort  ob  arrant  for 
him.  When  I  was  a  comin'  home,  jes  about  an  hour  ob 
sun,  I  rides  up  wid  a  sort  o'  hard-favored  man  in  a  gig, 
an'  he  looks  at  me  an'  at  de  hoss,  when  I  goes  ter  ride 
by,  mighty  sharp  like  ;  an'  fust  I  knows  he  axes  me  my 
name  ;  an'  I  tole  him.  An'  den  he  axes  whar  I  lib  ;  an' 
1  tole  him,  "  On  de  Knapp-o'-Reeds  plantation."  Den 
he  say, 

'  Who  you  b'long  to,   ennyhow,  boy  ? ' 

"  An'  I  tole  him  '  Ole  Marse  Potem  Desmit,  sah' 
— jes  so  like. 

"  Den  he  sez  '  Who's  a  oberseein'  dar  now  ? ' 

"  An'  I  sez,  '  Marse  Si  War',  sah  ?  ' 

"  Den  he  sez,  '  An'  how  do  all   de  han's  on  Knapp-o 
Reeds    git  'long   wid    ole    Marse    Potem    an'    Marse    Si 
War'  ? ' 

4  An'  I  sez,  '  Oh,  we  gits  'long  tol'able  well  wid  Marse 
War',  sah.' 

"  An'  he  sez,  '  How  yer  likes  old  Marse  Potem  ? ' 

"  An'  I  sez,  jes  fool  like,  '  We  don't  like  him  at  all, 
sah.' 

"An'  he  sez,  'Why?' 

"  An'  I  sez,  '  Dunno  sah.' 

"  An'  he  sez,  '  Don't  he  feed  ? ' 

"  An'  I  sez,  '  Tol'able,  I  spose.' 

"  An'  he  sez,  '  Whip  much?' 

"  An'  I  sez,  '  Mighty  little,  sah/ 

"  An'  he  sez,  '  Work  hard?' 

"  An'  I  sez,  '  Yes,  moderate,  sah,' 


10  BKfCKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

11  An'  he  sez,  '  Eber  seed  him  ? ' 

"  An'  I  sez,  '  Not  ez  T  knows  on,  sah.' 

"  An'  he  sez,  '  What  for  don't  yer  like  him,  den  ? ' 

14  An1  I  sez,  '  Dunno,  on'y  jes'  kase  he's  sech  a 
gran'  rascal.' 

"  Den  he  larf  fit  ter  kill,  an'  say,  '  Dat's  so,  dat's  so, 
boy.'  Den  he  take  out  his  pencil  an'  write  a  word  er 
two  on  a  slip  o'  paper  an'  say, 

"  'H'yer,  boy,  yer  gibs  dat  ter  Marse  Si  War',  soon 
ez  yer  gits  home.  D'yer  heah  ? ' 

"I  tole  him,  '  Yes,  sah,'  an'  comes  on  home  an'  gibs 
dat  ter  Marse  Si.  Quick  ez  he  look  at  it  he  say,  '  Whar 
you  git  dat,  boy  ?  '  An*  when  1  tole  him  he  sez,  '  You 
know  who  dat  is  ?  Dat's  old  Totem  Desmit  !  What  you 
say  to  him,  you  little  fool  ? ' 

"  Den  I  tell  Marse  War*  all  'bout  it,  an'  he  lay  down 
in  de  yard  an'  larf  fit  ter  kill.  All  de  same  he  gib  me 
twenty  licks  'cordin'  ter  de  orders  on  dat  little  dam  bit 
o'  paper.  An*  I  nebber  tink  o'  dat  widout  cussin', 
sence. 

"  Dat  ar,  now  am  de  only  time  I  ebber  fault  my  name. 
Now  what  I  want  ter  change  it  fer,  er  what  I  want  ob 
enny  mo'  ?  I  don't  want  'em.  An'  I  tell  'em  so, 
ebbery  time  too,  but  dey  'jes  fo'ce  em  on  me  like,  an' 
what'll  I  do 'bout  it,  I  dunno.  H'yer  I'se  got— lemme 
see_one — two— tree  !  Fo'  God,  I  don'  know  how  many 
names  I  hez  got  !  I'm  dod-dinged  now  ef  I  know  who  I 
be  ennyhow.  Ef  ennybody  ax  me  I'd  jes  hev  ter  go  back 
ter  ole  Mahs'r's  name  an'  stop,  kase  I  swar  I  wouldn't 
know  which  ob  de  udders  ter  pick  an'  chuse  from. 

"  I  specs  its  all  'long  o'  freedom,  though  I  can't  see 
why  a  free  nigger  needs  enny  mo'  name  dan  the  same  one 
hed  in  ole  slave  times.  Mus'  be,  though.  I  mind  now 
dat  all  de  pore  white  folks  hez  got  some  two  tree 


THE  FONT.  II 

names,  but  I  allus  thought  dat  wuz  'coz  dey  hedn't 
nuffin'  else  ter  call  dere  own.  Must  be  a  free  feller 
needs  mo'  name,  somehow.  Ef  I  keep  on  I  reckon  I'll 
git  enuff  atter  a  while.  H'yer  it's  gwine  on  two  year 
only  sence  de  s'rrender,  an'  I'se  got  tree  ob  'em  sartain  !" 
The  speaker  was  a  colored  man,  standing  before  his  log- 
house  in  the  evening  of  a  day  in  June.  His  wife  was  the 
only  listener  to  the  monologue.  He  had  been  examin 
ing  a  paper  which  was  sealed  and  stamped  with  official 
formality,  and  which  had  started  him  upon  the  train  of 
thought  he  had  pursued.  -  The  question  he  was  trying 
in  vain  to  answer  was  only  the  simplest  and  easiest  of 
the  thousand  strange  queries  which  freedom  had  so  re 
cently  propounded  to  him  and  his  race. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE  FONT. 

KNAPP-OF-REEDS  was  the  name  of  a  plantation  which 
was  one  of  the  numerous  possessions  of  P.  Desmit, 
Colonel  and  Esquire,  of  the  county  of  Horsford,  in  the 
northernmost  of  those  States  which  good  Queen  Caroline 
was  fortunate  enough  to  have  designated  as  memorials  of 
her  existence.  The  plantation  was  just  upon  that  wavy 
line  which  separates  the  cotton  region  of  the  east  from 
the  tobacco  belt  that  sweeps  down  the  pleasant  ranges 
of  the  Piedmont  region,  east  of  the  Blue  Appalachians. 
Or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  the  plantation  was  in  that 
indeterminate  belt  which  neither  of  the  great  staples 
could  claim  exclusively  as  its  own — that  delectable  land 
where  every  conceivable  product  of  the  temperate  zone 


i»  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

grows,  if  not  in  its  rankest  luxuriance,  at  least  in  perfec 
tion  and  abundance.  Tobacco  on  the  hillsides,  corn 
upon  the  wide  bottoms,  cotton  on  the  gray  uplands,  and 
wheat,  oats,  fruits,  and  grasses  everywhere.  Five  hundred 
acres  of  hill  and  bottom,  forest  and  field,  with  what  was 
fermed  the  Island,  consisting  of  a  hundred  more,  which 
had  never  been  overflowed  in  the  century  of  cultivation 
it  had  known,  constituted  a  snug  and  valuable  plantation. 
It  had  been  the  seat  of  an  old  family  once,  but  extrava 
gant  living  and  neglect  of  its  resources  had  compelled  its 
sale,  and  it  had  passed  into  the  hands  of  its  present  owner, 
of  whose  vast  possessions  it  formed  an  insignificant  part. 
Colonel  Desmit  was  one  of  the  men  who  applied  purely 
business  principles  to  the  opportunities  which  the  South 
afforded  in  the  olden  time,  following  everything  to  its 
logical  conclusion,  and  measuring  every  opportunity  by 
its  money  value.  He  was  not  of  an  ancient  family. 
Indeed,  the  paternal  line  stopped  short  with  his  own 
father,  and  the  maternal  one  could  only  show  one  more 
link,  and  then  became  lost  in  malodorous  tradition  which 
hung  about  an  old  mud-daubed  log-cabin  on  the  most 
poverty-stricken  portion  of  Nubbin  Ridge. 

There  was  a  rumor  that  the  father  had  a  left-handed 
kinship  with  the  Brutons,  a  family  of  great  note  in  the 
public  annals  of  the  State.  He  certainly  showed 
qualities  which  tended  to  confirm  this  tradition,  and 
abilities  which  entitled  him  to  be  considered  the  peer  of 
the  best  of  that  family,  whose  later  generations  were  by 
no  means  the  equals  of  former  ones.  Untiring  and 
unscrupulous,  Mr.  Peter  Smith  rose  from  the  position 
of  a  namele'ss  son  of  an  unknown  father,  to  be  as 
overseer  for  one  of  the  wealthiest  proprietors  of  that 
region,  and  finally,  by  a  not  unusual  turn  of  fortune's 
wheel,  became  the  owner  of  a  large  part  of  his  em- 


THE   FONT.  13 

ployer's  estates.  Thrifty  in  all  things,  he  married  in 
middle  life,  so  well  as  nearly  to  double  the  fortune  then 
acquired,  and  before  his  death  had  become  one  of  the 
wealthiest  men  in  his  county.  He  was  always  hampered 
by  a  lack  of  education.  He  could  read  little  and  write 
less.  In  his  later  days  he  was  appointed  a  Justice  of  the 
Peace,  and  was  chosen  one  of  the  County  Court,  or 
"  Court  of  Pleas  and  Quarter  Sessions,"  as  it  was  tech 
nically  called.  These  honors  were  so  pleasant  to  him 
that  he  determined  to  give  his  only  son  a  name  which 
should  commemorate  this  event.  The  boy  was,  there 
fore,  christened  after  the  opening  words  of  his  commis 
sion  of  the  peace,  and  grew  to  manhood  bearing  the  name 
Potestatem  Dedimus  *  Smith.  This  son  was  educated  with 
care — the  shrewd  father  feeling  his  own  need — but  was 
early  instilled  with  his  father's  greed  for  gain,  and  the 
necessity  for  unusual  exertion  if  he  would  achieve  equal 
position  with  the  old  families  who  were  to  be  his  rivals. 

The  young  man  proved  a  worthy  disciple  of  his  father. 
He  married,  it  is  true,  without  enhancing  his  fortune  ; 
but  he  secured  what  was  worth  almost  as  much  for  the 
promotion  of  his  purposes  as  if  he  had  doubled  his  be 
longings.  Aware  of  the  ill-effects  of  so  recent  a  bar 
sinister  in  his  armorial  bearings,  he  sought  in  marriage 
Miss  Bertha  Bellamy,  of  Belleville,  in  the  State  of  Vir 
ginia,  who  united  in  her  azure  veins  at  least  a  few  drops 
of  the  blood  of  all  the  first  families  of  that  fine-bred 
aristocracy,  from  Pocahontas's  days  until  her  own.  The 
rfile  of  the  gentleman  had  been  too  much  for  the  male 
line  of  the  Bellamys  to  sustain.  Horses  and  hounds 


*  Potestatem  dedimus  :  "  We  give  thee  power,  etc."  The  initial 
words  of  the  clause  conferring  jurisdiction  upon  officers,  in -the 
old  forms  of  judicial  commissions.  This  name  is  fact,  not  fancy. 


14  BKfCXS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  cards  and  high  living  had  gradually  eaten  down  their 
once  magnificent  patrimony,  until  pride  and  good  blood 
and  poverty  were  the  only  dowry  that  the  females  could 
command.  Miss  Bertha,  having  already  arrived  at  the 
age  of  discretion,  found  that  to  match  this  against  the 
wealth  of  young  Potestatem  Dedimus  Smith  was  as  well 
as  she  could  hope  to  do,  and  accepted  him  upon  condi 
tion  that  the  vulgar  Smith  should  be  changed  to  some 
less  democratic  name. 

The  one  paternal  and  two  maternal  ancestors  had  not 
made  the  very  common  surname  peculiarly  sacred  to  the 
young  man,  so  the  point  was  yielded  ;  and  by  consider 
able  persistency  on  the  part  of  the  young  wife,  "P.  D. 
SMITH"  was  transformed  without  much  trouble  into  "  P. 
DESMIT,"  before  the  administrator  had  concluded  the 
settlement  of  his  father's  estate. 

The  vigor  with  which  the  young  man  devoted  himself 
to  affairs  and  the  remarkable  success  which  soon  began 
to  attend  his  exertions  diverted  attention  from  the 
name,  and  before  he  had  reached  middle  life  he  was 
known  over  almost  half  the  State  as  "  Colonel  Desmit," 
"  Old  Desmit,"  or  "  Potem  Desmit,"  according  to  the 
degree  of  familiarity  or  respect  desired  to  be  displayed. 
Hardly  anybody  remembered  and  none  alluded  to  the 
fact  that  the  millionaire  of  Horsford  was  only  two  re 
moves  from  old  Sal  Smith  of  Nubbin  Ridge.  On  the 
other  hand  the  rumor  that  he  was  in  some  mysterious 
manner  remotely  akin  to  the  Brutons  was  industriously 
circulated  by  the  younger  members  of  that  high-bred 
house,  and  even  "  the  Judge,"  who  was  of  about  the  same 
age  as  Colonel  Desmit,  had  been  heard  more  than  once 
to  call  him  ' '  Cousin. ' '  These  things  affected  Colonel  Des 
mit  but  little.  He  had  set  himself  to  improve  his  father's 
teachings  and  grow  rich.  He  seemed  to  have  the  true 


THE  FONT.  15 

Midas  touch.  He  added  acre  to  acre,  slave  to  slave, 
business  to  business,  until  his  possessions  were  scattered 
from  the  mountains  to  the  sea,  and  especially  extended 
on  both  sides  the  border  line  in  the  Piedmont  region 
where  he  had  been  bred.  It  embraced  every  form  of 
business  known  to  the  community  of  which  he  was  a 
part,  from  the  cattle  ranges  of  the  extreme  west  to  the 
fisheries  of  the  farthest  east.  He  made  his  possessions  a 
sort  of  self-supporting  commonwealth  in  themselves. 
The  cotton  which  he  grew  on  his  eastern  farms  was  man 
ufactured  at  his  own  factory,  and  distributed  to  his  vari 
ous  plantations  to  be  made  into  clothing  for  his  slaves. 
Wheat  and  corn  and  meat,  raised  upon  some  of  his  plan 
tations,  supplied  others  devoted  to  non-edible  staples. 
The  tobacco  grown  on  the  Hyco  and  other  plantations  in 
that  belt  was  manufactured  at  his  own  establishment, 
supplied  his  eastern  laborers  and  those  which  wrought 
in  the  pine  woods  to  the  southward  at  the  production  of 
na~  al  supplies.  He  had  realized  the  dream  of  his  own 
life  and  the  aspiration  of  his  father,  the  overseer,  and 
had  become  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  the  State.  But 
he  attended  to  all  this  himself.  Every  overseer  knew 
that  he  was  liable  any  day  or  night  to  receive  a  visit  from 
the  untiring  owner  of  all  this  wealth,  who  would  require 
an  instant  accounting  for  every  bit  of  the  property  under 
his  charge.  Not  only  the  presence  and  condition  of 
every  slave,  mule,  horse  or  other  piece  of  stock  must  be 
accounted  for,  but  the  manner  of  its  employment  stated. 
He  was  an  inflexible  disciplinarian,  who  gave  few  orders, 
hated  instructions,  and  only  asked  results.  It  was  his 
custom  to  place  an  agent  in  charge  of  a  business  without 
directions,  except  to  make  it  pay.  His  only  care  was  to 
see 'that  his  property  did  not  depreciate,  and  that  the 
course  adopted  by  the  agent  was  one  likely  to  produce 


1 6  #A'/CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

good  results.  So  long  as  this  was  the  case  he  was  satis 
fied.  He  never  interfered,  made  no  suggestions,  found 
no  fault.  As  soon  as  he  became  dissatisfied  the  agent 
was  removed  and  another  substituted.  This  was  done 
without  words  or  controversy,  and  it  was  a  well-known 
rule  that  a  man  once  discharged  from  such  a  trust  could 
never  enter  his  employ  again.  For  an  overseer  to  be 
dismissed  by  Colonel  Desmit  was  to  forfeit  all  chance 
for  employment  in  that  region,  since  it  was  looked  upon 
as  a  certificate  either  of  incapacity  or  untrustworthiness. 

Colonel  Desmit  was  especially  careful  in  regard  to  his 
slaves.  His  father  had  early  shown  him  that  no  branch 
of  business  was,  or  could  be,  half  so  profitable  as  the 
rearing  of  slaves  for  market. 

"  A  healthy  slave  woman,"  the  thrifty  father  had  been 
accustomed  to  say,  "  will  yield  a  thousand  per  cent  upon 
her  value,  while  she  needs  less  care  and  involves  less  risk 
than  any  other  species  of  property."  The  son,  with  a 
broader  knowledge,  had  carried  his  father's  instructions 
to  more  accurate  and  scientific  results.  He  found  that 
the  segregation  of  large  numbers  of  slaves  upon  a  single 
plantation  was  not  favorable  either  to  the  most  rapid 
multiplication  or  economy  of  sustenance.  He  had  care 
fully  determined  the  fact  that  plantations  of  moderate 
extent,  upon  the  high,  well-watered  uplands  of  the  Pied 
mont  belt,  were  the  most  advantageous  locations  that 
could  be  found  for  the  rearing  of  slaves.  Such  planta 
tions,  largely  worked  by  female  slaves,  could  be  made  to 
return  a  small  profit  on  the  entire  investment,  without  at 
all  taking  into  account  the  increase  of  the  human  stock. 
This  was,  therefore,  so  much  added  profit.  From  careful 
study  and  observation  he  had  deduced  a  specific  formu 
lary  by  which  he  measured  the  rate  of  gain.  With  a 
well-selected  force,  two  thirds  of  which  should  be  females, 


THE  FONT.  17 

he  calculated  that  with  proper  care  such  plantations  could 
oe  made  to  pay,  year  by  year,  an  interest  of  five  per  cent 
on  the  first  cost,  and,  in  addition,  double  the  value  of  the 
ivorking  force  every  eight  years.  This  conclusion  he 
bad  arrived  at  from  scientific  study  of  the  rates  of  mor 
tality  and  increase,  and  in  settling  upon  it  he  had  cau 
tiously  left  a  large  margin  for  contingencies.  He  was  not 
accustomed  to  talk  about  his  business,  but  when  ques 
tioned  as  to  his  uniform  success  and  remarkable  prosper 
ity,  always  attributed  it  to  a  system  which  he  had  inex 
orably  followed,  and  which  had  never  failed  to  return  to 
him  at  least  twenty  per  cent,  per  annum  upon  every 
dollar  he  had  invested. 

So  confident  was  he  in  regard  to  the  success  of  this 
plan  that  he  became  a  large  but  systematic  borrower  of 
money  at  the  legal  rate  of  six  per  cent,  taking  care  that 
his  maturing  liabilities  should,  at  no  time,  exceed  a  cer 
tain  proportion  of  his  available  estate.  By  this  means 
his  wealth  increased  with  marvelous  rapidity. 

The  success  of  his  system  depended,  however,  entirely 
upon  the  care  bestowed  upon  his  slaves.  They  were 
never  neglected.  Though  he  had  so  many  that  of  hun 
dreds  of  them  he  did  not  know  even  the  faces,  he  gave 
the  closest  attention  to  their  hygienic  condition,  especially 
that  of  the  women,  who  were  encouraged  by  every  means 
to  bear  children.  It  was  a  sure  passport  to  favor  with 
the  master  and  the  overseer  :  tasks  were  lightened  ;  more 
abundant  food  provided  ;  greater  liberty  enjoyed  ;  and 
on  the  birth  of  a  child  a  present  of  some  sort  was  certain 
to  be  given  the  mother. 

The  one  book  which  Colonel  Desmit  never  permitted 
anybody  else  to  keep  or  see  was  the  register  of  his  slaves. 
He  had  invented  for  himself  an  elaborate  system  by 
which  in  a  moment  he  could  ascertain  every  element  of 


i8  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

the  value  of  each  of  his  more  than  a  thousand  slaves  at 
the  date  of  his  last  visitation  or  report.  When  an  over 
seer  was  put  in  charge  of  a  plantation  he  was  given  a  list 
of  the  slaves  assigned  to  it,  by  name  and  number,  and 
was  required  to  report  every  month  the  condition  of  each 
slave  during  the  month  previous,  as  to  health  and  temper, 
and  also  the  labor  in  which  the  same  had  been  employed 
each  day.  It  was  only  as  to  the  condition  of  the  slaves 
that  the  owner  gave  explicit  directions  to  his  head-men. 
44  Mighty  few  people  know  how  to  take  care  of  a  nigger," 
he  was  wont  to  say  ;  and  as  he  made  the  race  a  study 
and  looked  to  them  for  his  profits,  he  was  attentive  to 
their  condition. 

Among  the  requirements  of  his  system  was  one  that 
each  slave  born  upon  his  plantations  should  be  named 
only  by  himself  ;  and  this  was  done  only  on  personal 
inspection.  Upon  a  visit  to  a  plantation,  therefore,  one 
of  his  special  duties  always  was  to  inspect,  name,  and 
register  all  slave  children  who  had  been  born  to  his 
estate  since  his  previous  visitation. 

It  was  in  the  summer  of  1840  that  a  traveler  drove 
into  the  grove  in  front  of  the  house  at  Knapp-of-Reeds, 
in  the  middle  of  a  June  afternoon,  and  uttered  the  usual 
halloo.  He  was  answered  after  a  moment's  delay  by  a 
colored  woman,  who  came  out  from  the  kitchen  and 
exclaimed, 

"  Who's  dah  ?" 

It  was  evident  at  once  that  visitors  were  not  frequent 
at  Knapp-of-Reeds. 

14  Where's  Mr.  Ware  ?"   asked  the  stranger. 

14  He's  done  gone  out  in  de  new-ground  terbacker, 
long  wid  de  han's,"  answered  the  woman. 

14  Where  is  the  new-ground  this  year?"  repeated  the 
questioner. 


THE   FONT,  19 

"  Jes'  down  on  the  p'int  'twixt  de  branch  an'  de 
Hyco, "  she  replied. 

"  Anybody  you  can  send  for  him  ?" 

"  Wai,  thar  mout  be  some  shaver  dat's  big  enough  to 
go,  but  Marse  War's  dat  keerful  ter  please  Marse  Desmit 
dat  he  takes  'em  all  outen  de  field  afore  dey  can  well 
toddle,"  said  the  woman  doubtfully. 

"  Well,  come  and  take  my  horse,"  said  he,  as  he  began 
to  descend  from  his  gig,  "  and  send  for  Mr.  Ware  to 
come  up  at  once." 

The  woman  came  forward  doubtfully  and  took  the 
horse  by  the  bit,  while  the  traveler  alighted.  No  sooner 
did  he  turn  fully  toward  her  than  her  face  lighted  up 
with  a  smile,  and  she  said, 

"  Wai,  dar,  ef  dat  a'n't  Marse  Desmit  hisself,  I  do 
believe!  How  d'ye  do,  Mahs'r  ?"  and  the  woman 
dropped  a  courtesy. 

"I'm  very  well,  thank  ye,  Lorency,  an'  glad  to  see 
you  looking  so  peart,"  he  responded  pleasantly. 
"  How's  Mr.  Ware  and  the  people  ?  All  well,  I  hope." 

"  All  tol'able,  Mahs'r,  thank  ye." 

"  Well,  tie  the  horse,  and  get  me  some  dinner,  gal.  I 
haven't  eaten  since  I  left  home." 

"  La  sakes  !"  said  the  woman  in  a  tone  of  commiser 
ation,  though  she  had  no  idea  whether  it  was  twenty  or 
forty  miles  he  had  driven  since  his  breakfast. 

The  man  who  sat  upon  the  porch  and  waited  for  the 
coming  of  Mr.  Silas  Ware,  his  overseer,  was  in  the  prime 
of  life,  of  florid  complexion,  rugged  habit,  short  stubbly 
hair — thick  and  bristling,  that  stood  close  and  even  on 
his  round,  heavy  head  from  a  little  way  above  the  beet 
ling  brows  well  down  upon  the  bull-like  neck  which  joined 
but  hardly  separated  the  massive  head  and  herculean 
trunk.  This  hair,  now  almost  white,  had  been  a  yellowish 


20  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

red,  a  hue  which  still  showed  in  the  eyebrows  and  in  the 
stiff  beard  which  was  allowed  to  grow  beneath  the  angle 
of  his  massive  jaw,  the  rest  of  his  face  being  clean 
shaven.  The  eyes  were  deep-sunk  and  of  a  clear,  cold 
blue.  His  mouth  broad,  with  firm,  solid  lips.  Dogged 
resolution,  unconquerable  will,  cold-blooded  selfishness, 
and  a  keen  hog-cunning  showed  in  his  face,  while  his 
short,  stout  form — massive  but  not  fleshy — betrayed  a 
capacity  to  endure  fatigue  which  few  men  could  rival. 

41  How  d'ye,  Mr.  Ware  ?"  he  said  as  that  worthy  came 
striding  in  from  the  new-ground  nervously  chewing  a 
mouthful  of  home-made  twist,  which  he  had  replenished 
several  times  since  leaving  the  field,  without  taking  the 
precaution  to  provide  stowage  for  the  quantity  he  was 
taking  aboard. 

"  How  d'ye,  Colonel  ?"  said  Ware  uneasily. 

"  Reckon  you  hardly  expected  me  to  day  ?"  con 
tinued  Desmit,  watching  him  closely.  "  No,  I  dare  say 
not.  They  hardly  ever  do.  Fact  is,  I  rarely  ever  know 
myself  long  enough  before  to  send  word." 

He  laughed  heartily,  for  his  propensity  for  dropping  in 
unawares  upon  his  agents  was  so  well  known  that  he 
enjoyed  their  confusion  almost  as  much  as  he  valued  the 
surprise  as  a  means  of  ascertaining  their  attention  10  his 
interests.  Ware  was  one  of  his  most  trusted  lieuten 
ants,  however,  and  everything  that  he  had  ever  seen  or 
heard  satisfied  him  of  the  man's  faithfulness.  So  he 
made  haste  to  relieve  him  from  embarrassment,  for  the 
tall,  awkward,  shambling  fellow  was  perfectly  over 
whelmed. 

"  It's  a  long  time  since  I've  been  to  see  you,  Mr.  Ware 
— almost  a  year.  There's  mighty  few  men  I'd  let  run  a 
plantation  that  long  without  looking  after  them.  Your 
reports  have  been  very  correct,  and  the  returns  of  your 


THE  FONT.  21 

work  very  satisfactory.     I  hope  the  stock  and  hands  are 
in  good  condition  ?" 

"  I  must  say,  Colonel  Desmit,"  responded  Ware, 
gathering  confidence,  "  though  perhaps  I  oughtn't  ter  say 
it  myself,  that  I've  never  seen  'em  lookin'  better.  'Pears 
like  everything  hez  been  jest  about  ez  favorable  fer  hands 
an'  stock  ez  one  could  wish.  The  spring's  work  didn't 
seem  ter  worry  the  stock  a  mite,  an'  when  the  new  feed 
come  on  there  was  plenty  on't,  an'  the  very  best  quality. 
So  they  shed  off  ez  fine  ez  ever  you  see  ennything  in  yer 
life,  an'  hev  jest  been  a  doin'  the  work  in  the  crop 
without turnin'  a  hair." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,  Mr.  Ware,"  said  Desmit  encourag 
ingly. 

"  And  the  hands,"  continued  Ware,  "  have  jest  been 
in  prime  condition.  We  lost  Horion,  as  I  reported  to 
you  in — lemme  see,  February,  I  reckon — along  o'  rheu 
matism  which  he  done  cotch  a  runnin'  away  from  that 
Navigation  Company  that  you  told  me  to  send  him  to 
work  for." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  You  told  him  to  come  home  if  they 
took  him  into  Virginia,  as  I  directed,  I  suppose." 

Certainly,  sir, ' '  said  Ware  ;  "  an*  ez  near  ez  I  can  learn 
they  took  him  off  way  down  below  Weldon  somewheres, 
an'  he  lit  out  to  come  home  jest  at  the  time  of  the  Feb 
ruary  '  fresh.'  He  had  to  steal  his  way  afoot,  and  was 
might'ly  used  up  when  he  got  here,  and  died  some  little 
time  afterward." 

'  Yes.  The  company  will  have  to  pay  a  good  price 
for  him.  Wasn't  a  better  nor  sounder  nigger  on  the 
river,"  said  Desmit. 

"  That  ther  warn't,"  replied  Ware.  "  The  rest  has  all 
been  well.  Lorency  had  a  bad  time  over  her  baby,  but 
she's  'round  again  as  peart  as  ever." 


22  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  So  I  see.     And  the  crops  ?" 

4  The  best  I've  ever  seed  sence  I've  been  here,  Col 
onel.  Never  had  such  a  stand  of  terbacker,  and  the  corn 
looks  prime.  Knapp-of-Reeds  has  been  doin'  better  V 
better  ever  sence  I've  knowed  it  ;  but  she's  jest  outdoin' 
herself  this  year." 

"  Haven't  you  got  anything  to  drink,  Ware  ?" 

11  I  beg  your  parting.  Colonel  ;  I  was  that  flustered  I 
done  forgot  my  manners  altogether,"  said  Ware  apolo 
getically.  "  I  hev  got  a  drap  of  apple  that  they  say  is 
right  good  for  this  region,  and  a  trifle  of  corn  that  ain't 
nothing  to  brag  on,  though  it  does  for  the  country  right 
well." 

Ware  set  out  the  liquor  with  a  bowl  of  sugar  from 
his  sideboard  as  he  spoke,  and  called  to  the  kitchen 
for  a  glass  and  water. 

'  That  makes  me  think,"  said  Desmit.  "  Here,  you 
I.orency,  bring  me  that  portmanty  from  the  gig." 

When  it  was  brought  he  unlocked  it  and  took  out  a 
bottle,  which  he  first  held  up  to  the  light  and  gazed  ten 
derly  through,  then  drew  the  cork  and  smelled  of  its 
contents,  shook  his  head  knowingly,  and  then  handed 
it  to  Ware,  who  went  through  the  same  performance 
very  solemnly. 

"  Here,  gal,"  said  Desmit  sharply,  "  bring  us  another 
tumbler.  Now,  Mr.  Ware,"  said  he  unctuously  when  it 
had  been  brought,  "  allow  me,  sir,  to  offer  you  some 
brandy  which  is  thirty-five  years  old — pure  French 
brandy,  sir.  Put  it  in  my  portmanty  specially  for  you, 
and  like  to  have  forgot  it  at  the  last.  Just  try  it,  man." 

Ware  poured  himself  a  dram,  and  swallowed  it  with  a 
gravity  which  would  have  done  honor  to  a  more  solemn 
occasion,  after  bowing  low  to  his  principal  and  saying 
earnestly, 


THE  FONT.  23 

"  Colonel,  your  very  good  health." 

"  And  now,"  said  Desrnit,  "  have  the  hands  and  stock 
brought  up  while  I  eat  my  dinner,  if  you  please.  I  have 
a  smart  bit  of  travel  before  me  yet  to-day." 

The  overseer's  horn  was  at  Ware's  lips  in  a  moment, 
and  before  the  master  had  finished  his  dinner  even 
man,  woman,  and  child  on  the  plantation  was  in  the  yard, 
and  every  mule  and  horse  was  in  the  barn-lot  ready  tc 
be  brought  out  for  his  inspection. 

The  great  man  sat  on  the  back  porch,  and,  calling 
up  the  slaves  one  by  one,  addressed  some  remark  to  each, 
gave  every  elder  a  quarter  and  every  youngster  a  dime, 
until  he  came  to  the  women.  The  first  of  these  was 
Lorency,  the  strapping  cook,  who  had  improved  the 
time  since  her  master's  coming  to  make  herself  gay  with 
her  newest  gown  and  a  flaming  new  turban.  She  came 
forward  pertly,  with  a  young  babe  upon  her  arm. 

"  Well,  Lorency,  Mr.  Ware  says  you  have  made  me 
a  present  since  I  was  here  ?" 

41  Yah  !  yah  !  Marse  Desmit,  dat  I  hab  !  Jes'  de 
finest  little  nigger  boy  yer  ebber  sot  eyes  on.  Jes'  you 
look  at  him  ROW,"  she  continued,  holding  up  her  bright- 
eyed  pickaninny.  "  Ebber  you  see  de  beat  ub  dat  ? 
Reg'lar  ten  pound,  an'  wuff  two  hundred  dollars  dis 
bressed  minnit." 

"Is  that  it,  Lorency?"  said  Desmit,  pointing  to  the 
child.  "  Who  ever  saw  such  a  thunder-cloud  ?" 

There  was  a  boisterous  laugh  at  the  master's  joke  from 
the  assembled  crowd.  Nothing  abashed,  the  good-natured 
mother  replied,  with  ready  wit, 

"  Dat  so,  Marse  Kunnel.  He's  brack,  he  is.  None 
ob  yer  bleached  out  yaller  sort  of  coffee-cullud  nigger 
'bout  him.  De  rale  ole  giniwine  kind,  dat  a  coal  make 
a  white  mark  on.  Yah  !  yah  !  what  yer  gwine  ter  name 


24  BH7CKS   WITHOUT   STJtAW. 

him,  Mahs'r  ?  Gib  him  a  good  name,  now,  none  o*  ycr 
common  mean  ones,  but  jes'  der  bes'  one  yer  got  in  yer 
book  ;"  for  Colonel  Desmit  was  writing  in  a  heavy- 
clasped  book  which  rested  on  a  light  stand  beside  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Mahs'r  ?" 

"  Nimbus,"  replied  the  master. 

"  Wh — what  ?"  asked  the  mother.  "Say  dat  agin', 
won't  yer,  Mahs'r  ?" 

"  Nimbus — Nimbus"  repeated  Desmit. 

"  Wai,  I  swan  ter  gracious  !"  exclaimed  the  mother. 
"  Ef  dat  don't  beat  !  H'yer  !  little — what's  yer  name  ? 
Jes'  ax  yer  Mahs'r  fer  a  silver  dollar  ter  pay  yer  fer  hevin* 
ter  tote  dat  er  name  'roun'  ez  long  ez  yer  lives." 

She  held  the  child  toward  its  godfather  and  owner  as 
she  spoke,  amid  a  roar  of  laughter  from  her  fellow-ser 
vants.  Desmit  good-naturedly  threw  a  dollar  into  the 
child's  lap,  for  which  Lorency  courtesied,  and  then  held 
out  her  hand. 

"  What  do  you  want  now,  gal  ?"   asked  Desmit. 

"  Yer  a'n't  agwine  ter  take  sech  a  present  ez  dis  from 
a  pore  cullud  gal  an'  not  so  much  ez  giv'  her  someting 
ter  remember  hit  by,  is  yer  ?"  she  asked  with  arch  per 
sistency. 

"There,  there,"  said  he  laughing,  as  he  gave  her 
another  dollar.  "  Go  on,  or  I  shan't  have  a  cent  left." 

"  All  right,  Marse  Kunnel.  Thank  ye,  Mahs'r,"  she 
said,  as  she  walked  off  in  triumph. 

"  Oh,  hold  on,"  said  Desmit  ;  "  how  old  is  it, 
Lorency  ?" 

"  Jes'  sebben  weeks  ole  dis  bressed  day,  Mahs'r,"  said 
the  proud  mother  as  she  vanished  into  the  kitchen  to 
boast  of  her  good-fortune  in  getting  two  silver  dollars  out 
of  Marse  Desmit  instead  of  the  one  customarily  given  by 
him  on  such  occasions. 


THE   JUNONIAN  RITE.  25 

And  so  the  record  was  made  up  in  the  brass-clasped 
book  of  Colonel  Potestateni  Desmit,  the  only  baptismal 
register  of  the  colored  man  who  twenty-six  years  after 
ward  was  wondering  at  the  names  which  were  seeking 
him  against  his  will. 

No.  697 — Nimbus — of  Lorency—Male — April  2^/it 
1 840 — Sound — Knapp-of- Reeds. 

It  was  a  queer  baptismal  entry,  but  a  slave  needed  no 
more — indeed  did  not  need  that.  It  was  not  given  for 
his  sake,  but  only  for  the  convenience  of  his 'godfather 
should  the  chattel  ever  seek  to  run  away,  or  should  it 
become  desirable  to  exchange  him  for  some  other  form  of 
value.  There  was  nothing  harsh  or  brutal  or  degraded 
about  it.  Mr.  Desmit  was  doing,  in  a  business  way,  what 
the  law  not  only  allowed  but  encouraged  him  to  do,  and 
doing  it  because  it  paid. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    JUNONIAN    RITE. 

"  MARSE  DESMIT  ?" 
"  Well?" 

"  Et  yer  please,  Mahs'r,  I  wants  ter  marry  ?" 
"  The  devil  you  do  !" 
"  Yes,  sah,  if  you  please,  sah." 
"  What's  your  name  ?  " 
"  Nimbus." 

"  So  :     you're     the    curer     at     Knapp-of-Reeds,    I 
believe?" 
"  Yes,  sah." 


26  BR/CA'S   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

1  That  last  crop  was  well  done.  Mr.  Ware  says  you're 
one  of  the  best  hands  he  has  ever  known." 

'  Thank  ye,  Mahs'r,"  with  a  bo\v  and  scrape. 
"  What's  the  gal's  name  ?" 
"  Lugena,  sah. " 

4  Yes,  Vicey's  gal — smart  gal,  too.  Well,  as  I've  about 
concluded  to  keep  you  both — if  you  behave  yourselves, 
that  is,  as  well  as  you've  been  doing — I  don't  know 
as  there's  any  reason  why  you  shouldn't  take  up  with 
her." 

'  Thank  ye,  Mahs'r,"  very  humbly,  but  very  joyfully. 
The  speakers  were  the  black  baby  whom  Desmit  had 
christened  Nimbus,  grown  straight  and  strong,  and  just 
turning  his  first  score  on  the  scale  of  life,  and  Colonel 
Desmit,  grown  a  little  older,  a  little  grayer,  a  little  fuller, 
and  a  great  deal  richer — if  only  the  small  cloud  of  war 
just  rising  on  the  horizon  would  blow  over  and  leave  his 
possessions  intact.  He  believed  it  would,  but  he  was  a 
wise  man  and  a  cautious  one,  and  he  did  not  mean  to 
be  caught  napping  if  it  did  not. 

Nimbus  had  come  from  Knapp-of-Reeds  to  a  planta 
tion  twenty  miles  away,  upon  a  pass  from  Mr.  Ware,  on 
the  errand  his  conversation  disclosed.  He  was  a  fine 
figure  of  a  man  despite  his  ebon  hue,  and  the  master, 
looking  at  him,  very  naturally  noted  his  straight,  strong 
back,  square  shoulders,  full,  round  neck,  and  shapely, 
well-balanced  head.  His  face  was  rather  heavy — grave, 
it  would  have  been  called  if  he  had  been  white— and  his 
whole  figure  and  appearance  showed  an  earnest  and 
thoughtful  temperament.  He  was  as  far  from  that  vola 
tile  type  which,  through  the  mimicry  of  burnt-cork  min 
strels  and  the  exaggerations  of  caricaturists,  as  well  as  the 
works  of  less  disinterested  portrayers  of  the  race,  have 
come  to  represent  the  negro  to  the  unfamiliar  mind,  as 


THE    JU NONTAX  KITE,  27 

the  typical  Englishman  is  from  the  Punch-and-Judy 
figures  which  amuse  him.  The  slave  Nimbus  in  a 
white  skin  would  have  been  considered  a  man  of  great 
physical  power  and  endurance,  earnest  purpose,  and 
quiet,  self-reliant  character.  Such,  in  truth,  he  was.  Ex 
cept  the  whipping  he  had  received  when  but  a  lad,  by  his 
master's  orders,  no  blow  had  ever  been  struck  him.  In 
deed,  blows  were  rarely  stricken  on  the  plantations  of 
Colonel  Dcsmit  ;  for  while  he  required  work,  obedience, 
and  discipline,  he  also  fed  well  and  clothed  warmly,  and 
allowed  no  overseer  to  use  the  lash  for  his  own  gratifica 
tion,  or  except  for  good  cause.  It  was  well  known  that 
nothing  would  more  surely  secure  dismissal  from  his 
service  than  the  free  use  of  the  whip.  Not  that  he 
thought  there  was  anything  wrong  or  inhuman  about  the 
whipping-post,  but  it  was  entirely  contrary  to  his  policy. 
To  keep  a  slave  comfortable,  healthy,  and  good-natured, 
according  to  Colonel  Desmit's  notion,  was  to  increase  his 
value,  and  thereby  add  to  his  owner's  wealth.  He  knew 
that  Nimbus  was  a  very  valuable  slave.  He  had  always 
been  attentive  to  his  tasks,  was  a  prime  favorite  writh  his 
overseer,  and  had  already  acquired  the  reputation  of 
being  one  of  the  most  expert  and  trusty  men  that  the  whole 
region  could  furnish,  for  a  tobacco  crop.  Every  step 
in  the  process  of  growing  and  curing — from  the  prepara 
tion  of  the  seed-bed  to  the  burning  of  the  coal-pit,  and 
gauging  the  heat  required  in  the  mud-daubed  barn  for 
different  kinds  of  leaf  and  in  every  stage  of  cure — was 
perfectly  familiar  to  him,  and  he  could  always  be  trusted 
to  see  that  it  was  properly  and  opportunely  done.  This 
fact,  together  with  his  quiet  and  contented  disposition, 
added  very  greatly  to  his  value.  The  master  regarded 
him,  therefore,  with  great  satisfaction.  He  was  willing  to 
gratify  him  in  any  reasonable  way,  and  so,  after  some 


28  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

rough  jokes  at  his  expense,  wrote  out  his  marriage-license 
in  these  words,  in  pencil,  on  the  blank  leaf  of  a  note 
book  : 

MR.  WARE  :  Nimbus  and  Lugena  want  to  take  up 
with  each  other.  You  have  a  pretty  full  force  now,  but 
I  have  decided  to  keep  them  and  sell  some  of  the  old 
ones — say  Vicey  and  Lorency.  Neither  have  had  any 
children  for  several  years,  and  are  yet  strong,  healthy 
women,  who  will  bring  nearly  as  much  as  the  girl  Lugena. 
I  shall  make  up  a  gang  to  go  South  in  charge  of 
Winburn  next  week.  You  may  send  them  over  to  Louis- 
burg  on  Monday.  Yrou  had  better  give  Nimbus  the 
empty  house  near  the  tobacco-barn.  We  need  a  trusty 
man  there. 

Respectfully, 

P.   DESMIT. 

So  Nimbus  went  home  happy,  and  on  the  Saturday 
night  following,  in  accordance  with  this  authority,  with 
much  mirth  and  clamor,  and  with  the  half-barbarous 
and  half-Christian  ceremony — which  the  law  did  not 
recognize  ;  which  bound  neither  parties,  nor  master  nor 
stranger  ;  which  gave  Nimbus  no  rights  and  Lugena  no 
privileges  ;  which  neither  sanctified  the  union  nor  pro 
tected  its  offspring — the  slave  *'  boy"  and  "  gal"  "  took 
up  with  each  other,  "and  began  that  farce  which  the  vic 
tims  of  slavery  were  allowed  to  call  "  marriage."  The 
sole  purpose  of  permitting  it  was  to  raise  children.  The 
offspring  were  sometimes  called  "  families,"  even  in 
grave  legal  works  ;  but  there  was  no  more  of  the  family 
right  of  protection,  duty  of  sustenance  and  care,  or  any 
other  of  the  sacred  elements  which  make  the  family  a 
type  of  heaven,  than  attends  the  propagation  of  any  other 
species  of  animate  property.  When  its  purpose  had  been 
served,  the  voice  of  the  master  effected  instant  divorce. 
So,  on  the  Monday  morning  thereafter  the  mothers  of 


MARS  MEDDLES.  29 

the  so-called  bride  and  groom,  widowed  by  the  inexor 
able  demands  of  the  master's  interests,  left  husband  and 
children,  and  those  fair  fields  which  represented  all  that 
they  knew  of  the  paradise  which  we  call  home,  and  with 
tears  and  groans  started  for  that  living  tomb,  the  ever- 
devouring  and  insatiable  "  far  South." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MARS     MEDDLES. 

LOUISBURG,  January  TO,  1864. 
MR.  SILAS  WARE  : 

DEAR  SIR  :  In  ten  days  I  have  to  furnish  twenty 
hands  to  work  on  fortifications  for  the  Confederate  Gov 
ernment.  I  have  tried  every  plan  I  could  devise  to  avoid 
doing  so,  but  can  put  it  off  no  longer.  I  anticipated 
this  long  ago,  and  exchanged  all  the  men  I  could  possibly 
spare  for  women,  thinking  that  would  relieve  me,  but  it 
makes  no  difference.  They  apportion  the  levy  upon  the 
number  of  slaves.  I  shall  have  to  furnish  more  pretty 
soon.  The  trouble  is  to  know  who  to  send.  I  am  afraid 
every  devil  of  them  will  run  away,  but  'have  concluded 
that  if  I  send  Nimbus  as  a  sort  of  headman  of  the  gang, 
he  may  be  able  to  bring  them  through.  He  is  a  very 
faithful  fellow,  with  none  of  the  fool-notions  niggers 
sometimes  get,  I  think.  In  fact,  he  is  too  dull  to  have 
such  notions.  At  the  same  time  he  has  a  good  deal  of 
influence  over  the  others.  If  you  agree  with  this  idea, 
send  him  to  me  at  once. 

Respectfully, 

P.   DESMIT. 

In  accordance  with  this  order  Nimbus  was  sent  on  to 
have  another  interview  with  his  master.  The  latter's 
wishes  were  explained,  and  he  was  asked  if  he  could 
fulfil  them. 


30  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW., 

"  Dunno, "  he  answered  stolidly. 

"  Are  you  willing  to  try  ?" 

"  S'pect  I  hev  ter,  ennyhow,  ef  yer  say  so." 

"  Now,  Nimbus,  haven't  I  always  been  a  good  master 
to  you  ?"  reproachfully. 

No  answer. 

"  Haven't  I  been  kind  to  you  always  ?" 
'  Yer  made  Marse  War'  gib  me  twenty  licks  once." 

"  Well,  weren't  you  saucy,  Nimbus  ?  Wouldn't  you 
have  done  that  to  a  nigger  that  called  you  a  '  grand 
rascal  '  to  your  face  ?" 

"  S'pecs  I  would,  Mahs'r. " 

"Of  course  you  would.  You  know  that  very  well. 
You've  too  much  sense  to  remember  that  against  me  now. 
Besides,  if  you  are  not  willing  to  do  this  I  shall  have  to 
sell  you  South  to  keep  you  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
Yanks." 

Mr.  Desmit  knew  how  to  manage  "  niggers,"  and  full 
well  understood  the  terrors  of  being  "  sold  South."  He 
saw  his  advantage  in  the  flush  of  apprehension  which, 
before  he  had  ceased  speaking,  made  the  jetty  face  be 
fore  him  absolutely  ashen  with  terror. 

"  Don't  do  dat,  Marse  Desmit,  ef  you  please  !  Don't 
do  dat  er  wid  Nimbus  !  Mind  now,  Mahs'r,  I'se  got 
a  wife  an'  babies/' 

"  So  you  have,  and  I  know  you  don't  want  to  leave 
them." 

11  No  more  I  don't,  Mahs'r,"  earnestly. 

"  And  you  need  not  if  you'll  do  as  I  want  you  to.  See 
here,  Nimbus,  if  you'll  do  this  I  will  promise  that  you 
and  your  family  never  shall  be  separated,  and  I'll  give 
you  fifty  dollars  now  and  a  hundred  dollars  when  you 
come  back,  if  you'll  just  keep  those  other  fool-niggers 
from  trying — mind!I  say  trying — to  run  away  and  so  get- 


MARS  MEDDLES.  31 

ting  shot.  There's  no  such  thing  as  getting  to  the  Yan 
kees,  and  it  would  be  a  heap  worse  for  them  if  they 
did,  but  you  know  they  are  such  fools  they  might  try  it 
and  get  killed — which  would  serve  them  right,  only  I 
should  have  to  bear  the  loss." 

"  All  right,  Mahs'r,  I  do  the  best  I  can,"  said  Nimbus. 
'  That's  right,"  said  the  master. 

"  Here  are  fifty  dollars,"  and  he  handed  him  a  Con 
federate  bill  of  that  denomination  (gold  value  at  that 
time,  $3.21). 

Mr.  Desmit  did  not  feel  entirely  satisfied  when  Nimbus 
and  his  twenty  fellow-servants  went  off  upon  the  train  to 
work  for  the  Confedera.cy.  However,  he  had  done  all 
he  could  except  to  warn  the  guards  to  be  very  careful, 
which  he  did  not  neglect  to  do. 

Just  forty  days  afterward  a  ragged,  splashed  and  torn 
young  ebony  Samson  lifted  the  flap  of  a  Federal  officer's 
tent  upon  one  of  the  coast  islands,  stole  silently  in,  and 
when  he  saw  the  officer's  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  asked, 

"  Want  ary  boy,  Mahs'r  ?" 

The  tone,  as  well  as  the  form  of  speech,  showed  a 
new-comer.  The  officer  knew  that  none  of  the  colored 
men  who  had  been  upon  the  island  any  length  of  time 
would  have  ventured  into  his  presence  unannounced,  or 
have  made  such  an  inquiry. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Ober  to  der  mainlan',"  was  the  composed  answer. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  ?" 

"  Come  in  a  boat." 

"  Run  away  ?" 

"S'poseso." 

"  Where 'did  you  live  ?" 

"  Up  de  kentry— Horsford  County." 

"  How  did  you  come  down  here  ?." 


32  BRICKS    WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Ben  wukkin'  on  de  bres'wuks." 
'  The  dickens  you  have  !" 

"Yes,  sah." 

"  How  did  you  get  a  boat,  then  ?" 

!<  Jes'  tuk  it — dry  so." 

"  Anybody  with  you  ?" 

"  No,  Mahs' r." 

"  And  you  came  across  the  Sound  alone  in  an  open 
boat  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mahs'r  ;  an*  fru'  de  swamp  widout  any  boat." 

"  I  should  say  so,"  laughed  the  officer,  glancing  at  his 
clothes.      "  What  did  you  come  here  for  ?" 

44  Jes' — kase." 

"  Didn't   they  tell  you   you'd  be   worse   off  with  the 
Yankees  than  you  were  with  them  ?" 

"Yes,  sah." 

"  Didn't  you  believe  them  ?" 

"  Dunno,  sah." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  ?" 

"  Anything." 

"  Fight  the  rebs  ?" 

"Wai,  I  kin  du  it." 

"  What's  your  name  ?" 

"  Nimbus!" 

"  Nimbus  ?     Good  name — ha  !  ha  :  what  else  ?" 

"  Nuffin'  else." 

*'  Nothing  else  ?    What  was  your  old  master's  name  ?" 

"  Desmit— Potem  Desmit." 

"  Well,  then,  that's  yours,  ain't  it — your   surname — 
Nimbus  Desmit  ?" 

"  Reckon  not,  Mahs'r." 

"No?     Why  not?" 

"  Same  reason  his  name  ain't  Nimbus,  I  s'pose. " 

"Well,"   said   the    officer,  laughing,  "  there  maybe 


MARS  MEDDLES.  33 

something  in  that  ;  but  a  soldier  must  have  two  names. 
Suppose  I  call  you  George  Nimbus  ?" 

"  Yer  kin  call  me  jes'  what  yer  choose,  sah  ;  but  my 
name's  Nimbus  all  the  same.  No  Gawge  Nimbus,  nor 
ennything  Nimbus,  nor  Nimbus  ennything — jes'  Nimbus  ; 
so.  Nigger  got  no  use  fer  two  names,  nohow." 

The  officer,  perceiving  that  it  was  useless  to  argue  the 
matter  further,  added  his  name  to  the  muster-roll  of  a 
regiment,  and  he  was  duly  sworn  into  the  service  of  the 
United  States  as  George  Nimbus,  of  Company  C,  of  the 

Massachusetts  Volunteer  Infantry,  and  was  counted 

one  of  the  quota  which  the  town  of  Great  Barringham, 
in  the  valley  of  the  Housatuck,  was  required  to  furnish 
to  complete  the  pending  call  for  troops  to  put  down 
rebellion.  By  virtue  of  this  fact,  the  said  George  Nim 
bus  became  entitled  to  the  sum  of  four  hundred  dollars 
bounty  money  offered  by  said  town  to  such  as  should 
give  themselves  to  complete  its  quota  of  "  the  boys  in 
blue,"  in  addition  to  his  pay  and  bounty  from  the  Gov 
ernment.  So,  if  it  forced  on  him  a  new  name,  the  ser 
vice  of  freedom  was  not  altogether  without  compensatory 
advantages. 

Thus  the  slave  Nimbus  was  transformed  into  the 
"  contraband"  George  Nimbus,  and  became  not  only  a 
soldier  of  fortune,  but  also  the  representative  of  a  patriotic 
citizen  of  Great  Barringham,  who  served  his  country  by 
proxy,  in  the  person  of  said  contraband,  faithfully  and 
well  until  the  end  of  the  war,  when  the  South  fell- 
stricken  at  last  most  fatally  by  the  dark  hands  which  she 
had  manacled,  and  overcome  by  their  aid  whose  manhood 
she  had  refused  to  acknowledge. 


CHAPTER   V. 

NUNC     PRO     TUNC. 

THE  first  step  in  the  progress  from  the  prison-house  of 
bondage  to  the  citadel  of  liberty  was  a  strange  one.  The 
war  was  over.  The  struggle  for  autonomy  and  the  in 
violability  of  slavery,  on  the  part  of  the  South,  was  ended, 
and  fate  had  decided  against  them.  With  -this  arbitra 
ment  of  war  fell  also  the  institution  which  had  been  its 
cause.  Slavery  was  abolished — by  proclamation,  by 
national  enactment,  by  constitutional  amendment — ay, 
by  the  sterner  logic  which  forbade  a  nation  to  place 
shackles  again  upon  hands  which  had  beeri  raised  in  her 
defence,  which  had  fought  for  her  life  and  at  her  re 
quest.  So  the  slave  was  a  slave  no  more.  No  other 
man  could  claim  his  service  or  restrain  his  volition.  He 
might  go  or  come,  work  or  play,  so  far  as  his  late  master 
was  concerned. 

But  that  was  all.  He  could  not  contract,  testify, 
marry  or  give  in  marriage.  He  had  neither  property, 
knowledge,  right,  or  power.  The  whole  four  millions  did 
not  possess  that  number  of  dollars  or  of  dollars'  worth. 
Whatever  they  had  acquired  in  slavery  was  the  master's, 
unless  he  had  expressly  made  himself  a  trustee  for  their 
benefit.  Regarded  from  the  legal  standpoint  it  was, 
indeed,  a  strange  position  in  which  they  were.  A  race 
despised,  degraded,  penniless,  ignorant,  houseless,  home 
less,  fatherless,  childless,  nameless.  Husband  or  wife 
there  was  not  one  in  four  millions.  Not  a  child  might 
call  upon  a  father  for  aid,  and  no  man  of  them  all 
might  lift  his  hand  in  a  daughter's  defence.  Uncle  and 
aunt  and  cousin,  home,  family — none  of  these  words  had 

34 


NUNC  PRO    TUNC.  35 

any  place  in  the  freedman's  vocabulary.  Right  he  had, 
in  the  abstract  ;  in  the  concrete,  none.  Justice  would 
not  hear  his  voice.  The  law  was  still  color-blinded  by 
the  past. 

The  fruit  of  slavery — its  first  ripe  harvest,  gathered 
with  swords  and  bloody  bayonets,  was  before  the  nation 
which  looked  ignorantly  on  the  fruits  of  the  deliverance 
it  had  wrought.  The  North  did  not  comprehend  its 
work  ;  the  South  could  not  comprehend  its  fate.  The 
unbound  slave  looked  to  the  future  in  dull,  wondering 
hope. 

The  first  step  in  advance  was  taken  neither  by  the 
nation  nor  by  the  freedmen.  It  was  prompted  by  the 
voice  of  conscience,  long  hushed  and  hidden  in  the  mas 
ter's  breast.  It  was  the  protest  of  Christianity  and 
morality  against  that  which  it  had  witnessed  with  com 
placency  for  many  a  generation.  All  at  once  it  was  per 
ceived  to  be  a  great  enormity  that  four  millions  of 
Christian  people,  in  a  Christian  land,  should  dwell  to 
gether  without  marriage  rite  or  family  tie.  While  they 
were  slaves,  the  fact  that  they  might  be  bought  and  sold 
had  hidden  this  evil  from  the  eye  of  morality,  which  had 
looked  unabashed  upon  the  unlicensed  freedom  of  the 
quarters  and  the  enormities  of  the  barracoon.  Now 
all  at  once  it  was  shocked  beyond  expression  at  the 
domestic  relations  of  the  freedmen. 

So  they  made  haste  in  the  first  legislative  assemblies 
that  met  in  the  various  States,  after  the  turmoil  of  war 
had  ceased,  to  provide  and  enact  : 

i.  That  all  those  who  had  sustained  to  each  other  the 
relation  of  husband  and  wife  in  the  days  of  slavery, 
might,  upon  application  to  an  officer  named  in  each 
county,  be  registered  as  such  husband  and  wife. 


36  BRICK'S  WITHOUT    STRAW. 

2.  That  all   who  did   not   so    register  within   a    certain 

time  should  be  liable  to  indictment,  if  the   relation 
continued  thereafter. 

3.  That  the  effect   of  such  registration  should  be  to  con 

stitute    such    parties  husband  and    wife,  as    of    the 
date  of  their  first  assumption  of  marital  relations. 

4.  That   for   every  such   couple    registered    the   officer 

should  be  entitled  to  receive  the  sum  of  one  half- 
dollar  from  the  parties  registered. 

There  was  a  grim  humor  about  this  marriage  of  a  race 
by  wholesale,  millions  at  a  time,  and  nunc  pro  tune  ;  but 
especially  quaint  was  the  idea  of  requiring  each  freed- 
man,  who  had  just  been  torn,  as  it  were  naked,  from  the 
master's  arms,  to  pay  a  snug  fee  for  the  simple  privilege 
of  entering  upon  that  'relation  which  the  law  had  rigor 
ously  withheld  from  him  until  that  moment.  It  wets  a 
strange  remedy  for  a  long-hidden  and  stubbornly  denied 
disease,  and  many  strange  scenes  were  enacted  in  accord 
ance  with  the  provisions  of  this  statute.  Many  an  aged 
couple,  whose  children  had  been  lost  in  the  obscure 
abysses  of  slavery,  or  had  gone  before  them  into  the 
spirit  land,  old  and  feeble  and  gray-haired,  wrought  with 
patience  day  after  day  to  earn  at  once  their  living  and 
the  money  for  this  fee,  and  when  they  had  procured  it 
walked  a  score  of  miles  in  order  that  they  might  be 
"  registered,"  and,  for  the  brief  period  that  remained  to 
them  of  life,  know  that  the  law  had  sanctioned  the 
relation  which  years  of  love  and  suffering  had  sanctified. 
It  was  the  first  act  of  freedom,  the  first  step  of  legal 
recognition  or  manly  responsibility  !  It  was  a  proud  hour 
and  a  proud  fact  for  the  race  which  had  so  long  been 
bowed  in  thralldom  and  forbidden  even  the  most  com 
mon  though  the  holiest  of  God's  ordinances.  What  the 


NUNC  PRO    TUNC.  37 

law  had  taken  little  by  little,  as  the  science  of  Christian 
slavery  grew  up  under  the  brutality  of  our  legal  progress, 
the  law  returned  in  bulk.  It  was  the  first  seal  which  was 
put  on  the  slave's  manhood — the  first  step  upward  from 
the  brutishness  of  another's  possession  to  the  glory  of 
independence.  The  race  felt  its  importance  as  did  no 
one  else  at  that  time.  By  hundreds  and  thousands  they 
crowded  the  places  appointed,  to  accept  the  honor  offered 
to  their  posterity,  and  thereby  unwittingly  conferred 
undying  honor  upon  themselves.  Few  indeed  were  the 
unworthy  ones  who  evaded  the  sacred  responsibility  thus 
laid  upon  them,  and  left  their  offspring  to  remain  under 
the  badge  of  shame.  When  carefully  looked  at  it  was 
but  a  scant  cure,  and  threw  the  responsibility  of  illegiti 
macy  where  it  did  not  belong,  but  it  was  a  mighty  step 
nevertheless.  The  distance  from  zero  to  unity  is  always 
infinity. 

The  county  clerk  in  and  for  the  county  of  Horsford 
sat  behind  the  low  wooden  railing  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  put  across  his  office  to  protect  him  from  the 
too  near  approach  of  those  who  crowded  to  this  foun 
tain  of  rehabilitating  honor  that  had  recently  been 
opened  therein.  Unused  to  anything  beyond  the  plan 
tation  on  which  they  had  been  reared,  the  temple  of 
justice  was  as  strange  to  their  feet,  and  the  ways  and 
forms  of  ordinary  business  as  marvelous  to  their  minds 
as  the  etiquette  of  the  king's  palace  to  a  peasant  who  has 
only  looked  from  afar  upon  its  pinnacled  roof.  The 
recent  statute  had  imposed  upon  the  clerk  a  labor  of  no 
little  difficulty  because  of  this  very  ignorance  on  the  part 
of  those  whom  he  was  required  to  serve  ;  but  he  was 
well  rewarded.  The  clerk  was  a  man  of  portly  presence, 
given  to  his  ease,  who  smoked  a  long-stemmed  pipe  as 
he  sat  beside  a  table  which,  in  addition  to  his  papers  and 


38  £ KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

writing  materials,  held  a  bucket  of  water  on  which  floated 
a  clean  gourd,  in  easy  reach  of  his  hand. 

"  Be  you  the  clerk,  sah  ?"  said  a  straight  young  colored 
man,  whose  clothing  had  a  hint  of  the  soldier  in  it,  as 
well  as  his  respectful  but  unusually  collected  bearing. 

'  Yes,"  said  the  clerk,  just  glancing  up,  but  not  inter 
mitting  his  work  ;   "  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  If  you  please,  sah,  we  wants  to  be  married,  Lugena 
and  me." 

"  Registered^  you  mean,"  I  suppose  ?" 

"  No,  we  don't,  sah  ;  we  means  married." 

"  I  can't  marry  you.  You'll  have  to  get  a  license  and 
be  married  by  a  magistrate  or  a  minister." 

"  But  I  heard  der  was  a  law — " 

"  Have  you  been  living  together  as  man  and  wife  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sah  ;  dat  we  hab,  dis  smart  while." 
'  Then  you  want  to  be  registered.     This  is  the  place. 
Got  a  half-dollar  ?" 

"Yes,  sah?" 

"  Let's  have  it." 

The  colored  man  took  out  some  bills,  and  with  much 
difficulty  endeavored  to  make  a  selection  ;  finally,  hand 
ing  one  doubtfully  toward  the  clerk,  he  asked, 

"  Is  dat  a  one-dollah,  sah  ?" 

"  No,  that  is  a  five,  but  I  can  change  it." 

"•No,  I'se  got  it  h'yer, "  said  the  other  hastily,  as  he 
dove  again  into  his  pockets,  brought  out  some  pieces 
of  fractional  currency  and  handed  them  one  by  one  to 
the  officer  until  he  said  he  had  enough. 

"  Well,"  said  the  clerk  as  he  took  up  his  pen  and  pre 
pared  to  fill  out  the  blank,  "  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  My  name's  Nimbus,  sah." 

"  Nimbus  what  ?" 

"  Nimbus  nufnV,  sah  ;  jes'  Nimbus." 


NUA?C  PRO    TUNC.  39 

"  But  you  must  have  another  name  ?" 

"  No  I  hain't.  Jes'  wore  dat  fer  twenty-odd  years,  an' 
nebber  hed  no  udder." 

"  Who  do  you  work  for  ?" 

"  Wuk  for  myself,  sah." 

"  Well,  on  whose  land  do  you  work  ?" 

*'  Wuks  on  my  own,  sah.  Oh,  I  libs  at  home  an' 
boa'ds  at  de  same  place,  I  does.  An*  my  name's  Nim 
bus,  jes'  straight  along,  widout  any  tail  ner  handle." 

"  What  was  your  old  master's  name  ?" 

"  Desmit — Colonel  Potem  Desmit." 

"  I  might  have  known  that,"  said  the  clerk  laughingly, 
"  from  the  durned  outlandish  name.  Well,  Desmit  is 
your  surname,  then,  3in't  it  ?" 

"  No  'taint,  Mister.  What  right  I  got  ter  his  name  ? 
He  nebber  gib  it  ter  me  no  more'n  he  did  ter  you  er 
Lugena  h'yer. " 

"  Pshaw,  I  can't  stop  to  argue  with  you.  Hare's  your 
certificate." 

"  Will  you  please  read  it,  sah  ?  I  hain't  got  no  larnin'. 
Ef  you  please,  sah. ' ' 

The  clerk,  knowing  it  to  be  the  quickest  way  to  get  rid 
of  them,  read  rapidly  over  the  certificate  that  Nimbus 
and  Lugena  Desrnit  had  been  duly  registered  as  husband 
and  wife,  under  the  provisions  of  an  ordinance  of  the 
Convention  ratified  on  the day  of ,  1865. 

"  So  you's  done  put  in  dat  name — Desmit  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  just  had  to,  Nimbus.  The  fact  is,  a  man  can't 
be  married  according  to  law  without  two  names." 

"  So  hit  appears  ;  but  ain't  it  quare  dat  I  should  hev 
ole  Mahs'r's  name  widout  his  gibbin'  it  ter  me,  ner  my 
axin'  fer  it,  Mister  ?" 

"  It  may  be,  but  that's  the  way,  you  see." 

"  So  hit  seems.     'Pears  like  I'm  boun'   ter  hev  mo' 


40  B RICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

names  'n  I  knows  what  ter  do  wid,  ies'  kase  I's  free. 
But  de  chillen — yer  hain't  sed  nary  word  about  dem, 
Mister." 

"  Oh,  I've  nothing  to  do  with  them." 

"  But,  see  h'yer,  Mister,  ain't  de  law  a  doin  dis  ter 
make  dem  lawful  chillen  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

v<  An'  how's  de  law  ter  know  which  is  de  lawful  chillen 
ef  hit  ain't  on  dat  ar  paper  ?" 

"  Sure  enough,"  said  the  clerk,  with  amusement. 
"  That  would  have  been  a  good  idea,  but,  you  see.  Nim 
bus,  the  law  didn't  go  that  far." 

"  Wai,  hit  ought  ter  hev  gone  dat  fur.  Now,  Mister 
Clerk,  couldn't  you  jes'  put  dat  on  dis  yer  paper,  jes'  ter 
'commodate  me,  yer  know." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  good-naturedly,  taking  back  the  certi 
ficate  ;  "  what  do  you  want  me  to  write  ?" 

"  Wai,  yer  see,  dese  yer  is  our  chillen.  Dis  yer  boy 
Lone — Axylone,  Marse  Desmit  called  him,  but  we  calls 
him  Lone  for  short — he's  gwine  on  fo'  ;  dis  yer  gal  Wicey, 
she's  two  past  ;  and  dis  little  brack  cuss  Lugena's 
a-holdin'  on,  wecallCap'n,  kase  he  bosses  all  on  us — he's 
nigh  'bout  a  year  ;  an'  dat's  all." 

The  clerk  entered  the  names  and  ages  of  the  children 
on  the  back  of  the  paper,  with  a  short  certificate  that  they 
were  present,  and  were  acknowledged  as  the  children, 
and  the  only  ones,  of  the  parties  named  in  the  instrument. 

And  so  the  slave  Nimbus  was  transformed,  first  into 
the  "  contraband"  and  mercenary  soldier  George  Nimbus, 
and  then  by  marriage  into  Nimbus  Desmit. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE     TOGA     VIRILIS. 

BUT  the  transformations  of  the  slave  were  not  yet 
ended.  The  time  came  when  he  was  permitted  to  be 
come  a  citizen-  For  two  years  he  had  led  an  inchoate, 
nondescript  sort  of  existence  :  free  without  power  or 
right  ;  neither  slave  nor  freeman  ;  neither  property  nor 
citizen.  He  had  been,  meanwhile,  a  bone  of  contention 
between  the  Provisional  Governments  of  the  States  and 
the  military  power  which  controlled  them.  The  so- 
called  State  Governments  dragged  him  toward  the  whip 
ping-post  and  the  Black  Codes  and  serfdom.  They 
denied  him  his  oath,  fastened  him  to  the  land,  compelled 
him  to  hire  by  the  year,  required  the  respectfulness  of 
the  old  slave  "  Mahs'r"  and  "  Missus,"  made  his  em 
ployer  liable  for  his  taxes,  and  allowed  recoupment  there 
for  ;  limited  his  avocations  and  restricted  his  opportuni 
ties.  These  would  substitute  serfdom  for  chattelism. 

On  the  other  hand  the  Freedman's  Bureau  acted  as 
his  guardian  and  friend,  looked  after  his  interests  in 
contracts,  prohibited  the  law's  barbarity,  and  insisted 
stubbornly  that  the  freedman  was  a  man,  and  must  be 
treated  as  such.  It  needed  only  the  robe  of  citizenship, 
it  was  thought,  to  enable  him  safely  to  dispense  with 
the  one  of  these  agencies  and  defy  the  other.  So  the 
negro  was  transformed  into  a  citizen,  a  voter,  a  political 
factor,  by  act  of  Congress,  with  the  aid  and  assistance  of 
the  military  power.  , 

A  great  crowd  had  gathered  at  the  little  town  of  Melton, 
which  was  one  of  the  chief  places  of  the  county  of  Hors- 
ford,  for  the  people  had  been  duly  notified  by  official 

4* 


42  JIAVCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

advertisement  that  on  this  day  the  board  of  registration 
appointed  by  the  commander  of  the  military  district  in 
which  Horsford  County  was  situated  would  convene 
there,  to  take  and  record  the  names,  and  pass  upon  the 
qualifications,  of  all  who  desired  to  become  voters  of  the 
new  body  politic  which  was  to  be  erected  therein,  or  of 
the  old  one  which  was  to  be  reconstructed  and  rehabili 
tated  out  of  the  ruins  which  war  had  left. 

The  first  provision  of  the  law  was  that  every  member 
of  such  board  of  registration  should  be  able  to  take  what 
was  known  in  those  days  as  the  "  iron-clad  oath,"  that 
is,  an  oath  that  he  had  never  engaged  in,  aided,  or  abet 
ted  any  rebellion  against  the  Government  of  the  United 
States.  Men  who  could  do  this  were  exceedingly  diffi 
cult  to  find  in  some  sections.  Of  course  there  were 
abundance  of  colored  men  who  could  take  this  oath,  but 
not  one  in  a  thousand  of  them  could  read  or  write.  The 
military  commander  determined,  however,  to  select  in 
every  registration  district  one  of  the  most  intelligent  of 
this  class,  in  order  that  he  might  look  after  the  interests 
of  his  race,  now  for  the  first  time  to  take  part  in  any 
public  or  political  movement.  This  would  greatly  in 
crease  the  labors  of  the  other  members  of  the  board,  yet 
was  thought  not  only  just  but  necessary.  As  the  labor 
of  recording  the  voters  of  a  county  was  no  light  one, 
especially  as  the  lists  had  to  be  made  out  in  triplicate,  it 
was  necessary  to  have  some  clerical  ability  on  the  board. 
These  facts  often  made  the  composition  of  these  boards 
somewhat  heterogeneous  and  peculiar.  The  one  which 
was  to  register  the  voters  of  Horsford  consisted  of  a  little 
old  white  man,  who  had  not  enough  of  stamina  or  char 
acter  to  have  done  or  said  anything  in  aid  of  rebellion, 
and  who,  if  he  had  done  the  very  best  he  knew,  ought 
yet  to  have  been  held  guiltless  of  evil  accomplished.  In 


THE    TOGA    VIRILIS.  43 

his  younger  days  he  had  been  an  overseer,  but  in  his 
later  years  had  risen  to  the  dignity  of  a  landowner  and 
the  possession  of  one  or  two  slaves.  He  wrestled  with 
the  mysteries  of  the  printed  page  with  a  sad  seriousness 
which  made  one  regret  his  inability  to  remember  what 
was  at  the  top  until  he  had  arrived  at  the  bottom.  Writ 
ing  was  a  still  more  solemn  business  with  him,  but  he 
was  a  brave  man  and.  would  cheerfully  undertake  to 
transcribe  a  list  of  names,  which  he  well  knew  that  any 
thing  less  than  eternity  would  be  too  short  to  allow  him 
to  complete.  He  was  a  small,  thin-haired,  squeaky- 
voiced  bachelor  of  fifty,  and  as  full  of  good  intentions  as 
the  road  to  perdition.  If  Tommy  Glass  ever  did  any 
evil  it  would  not  only  be  without  intent  but  from  sheer 
accident. 

With  Tommy  was  associated  an  old  colored  man,  one 
of  those  known  in  that  region  as  "  old-issue  free-nig 
gers."  Old  Pharaoh  Ray  was  a  venerable  man.  He 
had  learned  to  read  before  the  Constitution  of  1835 
deprived  the  free-negro  of  his  vote,  and  had  read  a  little 
since.  He  wore  an  amazing  pair  of  brass-mounted  spec 
tacles.  His  head  was  surmounted  by  a  mass  of  snowy 
hair,  and  he  was  of  erect  and  powerful  figure  despite  the 
fact  that  he  boasted  a  life  of  more  than  eighty  years.  He 
read  about  as  fast  and  committed  to  memory  more  easily 
than  his  white  associate,  Glass.  In  writing  they  were 
about  a  match  ;  Pharaoh  wrote  his  name  much  more 
legibly  than  Glass  could,  but  Glass  accomplished  the 
task  in  about  three  fourths  of  the  time  required  by 
Pharaoh. 

The  third  member  of  the  board  was  Captain  Theron 
Pardee,  a  young  man  who  had  served  in  the  Federal  army 
and  afterward  settled  in  an  adjoining  county.  He  was 
the  chairman.  He  did  the  writing,  questioning,  and 


44  BA'/CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

deciding,  and  as  each  voter  had  to  be  sworn  he  utilized 
his  two  associates  by  requiring  them  to  administer  the 
oaths  and — look  wise.  The  colored  man  in  about  two 
weeks  learned  these  oaths  so  that  he  could  repeat  them. 
The  white  man  did  not  commit  the  brief  formulas  in  the 
four  weeks  they  were  on  duty. 

The  good  people  of  Melton  were  greatly  outraged  that 
this  composite  board  should  presume  to  come  and  pass 
upon  the  qualifications  of  its  people  as  voters  under  the 
act  of  Congress,  and  indeed  it  was  a  most  ludicrous 
affair.  The  more  they  contemplated  the  outrage  that 
was  being  done  to  them,  by  decreeing  that  none  should 
vote  who  had  once  taken  an  oath  to  support  the  Govern 
ment  of  the  United  States  and  afterward  aided  the 
rebellion,  the  angrier  they  grew,  until  finally  they  declared 
that  the  registration  should  not  be  held.  Then  there 
were  some  sharp  words  between  the  ex-Federal  soldier 
and  the  objectors.  As  no  house  could  be  procured  for 
the  purpose,  he  proposed  to  hold  the  registration  on  the 
porch  of  the  hotel  where  he  stopped,  but  the  landlord 
objected.  Then  he  proposed  to  hold  it  on  the  sidewalk 
under  a  big  tree,  but  the  town  authorities  declared 
against  it.  However,  he  was  proceeding  there,  when  an 
influential  citizen  kindly  came  forward  and  offered  the 
use  of  certain  property  under  his  control.  There  was 
some  clamor,  but  the  gentleman  did  not  flinch.  Thither 
they  adjourned,  and  the  work  went  busily  on.  Among 
others  who  came  to  be  enrolled  as  citizens  was  our  old 
friend  Nimbus. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?"  asked  the  late  Northern  soldier 
sharply,  as  Nimbus  came  up  in  his  turn  in  the  long  line 
of  those  waiting  for  the  same  purpose. 

"  Down  ter  Red  Wing,  sah  ?" 

14  Where's  that?" 


THE    TOGA    VIRILIS.  45 

11  Oh,  right  down  h'yer  on  Hyco,  sah." 

"  In  this  county  ?" 

"  Oh,  bless  yer,  yes,  Mister,  should  tinkhitwas.  Hit's 
not  above  five  or  six  miles  out  from  h'yer." 

"  How  old  are  you  ?" 

14  Wai,  now,  I  don't  know  dat,  not  edzaclly. " 

"  How  old  do  you  think — twenty-one  ?" 

"  Oh,  la,  yes  ;  more  nor  dat,  Cap'." 

"  Born  where  ?" 

"  Right  h'yer  in  Horsford,  sah." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  Nimbus." 

"  Nimbus  what  ?"  asked  the  officer,  looking  up, 

"  Nimbus  nothin',  sah  ;  jes'  straight  along  Nimbus." 

"  Well,  but — "  said  the  officer,  looking  puzzled,  "  you 
must  have  some  sort  of  surname." 

"  No,  sah,  jes'  one  ;  nigger  no  use  for  two  names." 

"  Yah  !  yah  !  yah  !"  echoed  the  dusky  crowd  behind 
him.  "  You's  jes'  right  dah,  you  is  !  Niggah  mighty 
little  use  fer  heap  o'  names.  Jes'  like  a  mule — one  name 
does  him,  an'  mighty  well  off  ef  he's  'lowed  ter  keep 
dat." 

"  His  name's  Desmit,"  said  a  white  man,  the  sheriff 
of  the  county,  who  stood  leaning  over  the  railing  ;  "  used 
to  belong  to  old  Potem  Desmit,  over  to  Louisburg. 
Mighty  good  nigger,  too.  I  s'pec'  ole  man  Desmit 
felt  about  as  bad  at  losing  him  as  ary  one  he  had." 

"  Powerful  good  hand  in  terbacker, "  said  Mr.  Glass, 
who  was  himself  an  expert  in  "  yaller  leaf."  '  Ther' 
wasn't  no  better  ennywhar'  round." 

"  I  knows  all  about  him,"  said  another.  "  Seed  a 
man  offer  old  Desmit  eighteen  hundred  dollars  for  him 
afore  the  war — State  money — but  he  wouldn't  tech  it. 
Reckon  he  wishes  he  had  now." 


46  ft  ft /CATS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

11  Yes,"  said  the  sheriff,  "  he's  the  best  curer  in  the 
county.  Commands  almost  any  price  in  the  season,  but 
is  powerful  independent,  and  gittin'  right  sassy.  Listen 
at  him  now  ?" 

1  They  say  your  name  is  Desmit — Nimbus  Desmit," 
said  the  officer  ;  "is  that  so  ?" 

"  Xo,  tain't." 

"  Wasn't  that  your  old  master's  name  ?"  asked  the 
sheriff  roughly. 

"  Go'se  it  war,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,  then,  ain't  it  yours  too  ?" 

"  No,  it  ain't." 

"  Well,  you  just  ask  the  gentleman  if  that  ain't  so," 
said  the  sheriff,  motioning  to  the  chairman  of  the  board. 

"  Well,"  said  that  officer,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "I 
do  not  know  that  there  is  any  law  compelling  a  freedman 
to  adopt  his  former  master's  name.  He  is  without  name 
in  the  law,  a  pure  nullius  filius — nobody's  son.  As 
a  slave  he  had  but  one  name.  He  could  have  no  sur 
name,  because  he  had  no  family.  He  was  arraigned, 
tried,  and  executed  as  '  Jim  '  or  '  Bill  '  or  '  Tom.' 
The  volumes  of  the  reports  are  full  of  such  cases,  as 
The  State  vs.  '  Dick  '  or  '  Sam. '  The  Roman  custom 
was  for  the  freedman  to  take  the  name  of  some  friend, 
benefactor,  or  patron.  I  do  not  see  why  the  American 
freedman  has  not  a  right  to  choose  his  own  surname." 

4  That  is  not  the  custom  here,"  said  the  sheriff,  with 
some  chagrin,  he  having  begun  the  controversy. 

"  Very  true,"  replied  the  chairman  ;  "  the  custom — 
and  a  very  proper  and  almost  necessary  one  it  seems—  is 
to  call  the  freedman  by  a  former  master's  name.  This 
distinguishes  individuals.  But  when  the  freedman  re 
fuses  to  acknowledge  the  master's  name  as  his,  who  can 
impose  it  on  him  ?  We  are  directed  to  register  the  names 


THE    TOGA    VJKIUS.  47 

of  parties,  and  while  we  might  have  the  right  to  refuse 
one  whom  we  found  attempting  to  register  under  a  false 
name,  yet  we  have  no  power  to  make  names  for  those 
applying.  Indeed,  if  this  man  insists  that  he  has  but  one 
name,  we  must,  for  what  I  can  see,  register  him  by  that 
alone." 

His  associates  looked  wise,  and  nodded  acquiescence 
in  the  views  thus  expressed. 

"  Den  dat's  what  I  chuse, "  said  the  would-be  voter. 
"My  name's  Nimbus — noffin'  mo'." 

"  But  I  should  advise  you  to  take  another  name  to 
save  trouble  when  you  come  to  vote,"  said  the  chair 
man.  His  associates  nodded  solemnly  again. 

"  Wai,  now,  Marse  Cap'n,  you  jes'  see  h'yer.  I  don't 
want  ter  carry  nobody's  name  widout  his  leave.  S'pose 
I  take  ole  Marse  War's  name  ober  dar  ?" 

"  You  can  take  any  one  you  choose.  I  shall  write 
down  the  one  you  give  me." 

"  Is  you  willin',  Marse  War'  ?" 

"  I've  nothing  to  do  with  it,  Nimbus,"  said  Ware  ; 
"  fix  your  own  name." 

"  Wai  sah,"  said  Nimbus,  "  I  reckon  I'll  take  dat  ef  I 
must  hev  enny  mo'  name.  Yer  see  he  wuz  my  ole  ober- 
seer,  Mahs'r,  an'  wuz  powerful  good  ter  me,  tu.  I'd  a 
heap  ruther  hev  his  name  than  Marse  Desmit's  ;  but  I 
don't  want  no  name  but  Nimbus,  nohow. 

"  All  right,"  said  the  chairman,  as  he  made  the  entry. 
"  Ware  it  is  then." 

As  there  might  be  a  poll  held  at  Red  Wing,  where 
Nimbus  lived,  he  was  given  a  certificate  showing  that 
Nimbus  Ware  had  been  duly  registered  as  an  elector  of 
the  county  of  Horsford  and  for  the  precinct  of  Red  Wing. 

Then  the  newly-named  Nimbus  was  solemnly  sworn  by 
the  patriarchal  Pharaoh  to  bear  true  faith  and  allegiance 


4s  n R i CKS  WITHOTT  STRAW. 

to  the  government  of  the  United  States,  and  to  uphold 
its  constitution  and  the  laws  passed  in  conformity  there 
with  ;  and  thereby  the  recent  slave  became  a  component 
factor  of  the  national  life,  a  full-fledged  citizen  of  the 
American  Republic. 

As  he  passed  out,  the  sheriff  said  to  those  about  him, 
in  a  low  tone, 

'  There'll  be  trouble  with  that  nigger  yet.  He's  too 
sassy.  You'll  see." 

"How  so?"  asked  the  chairman.  "I  thought  you 
said  he  was  industrious,  thrifty,  and  honest." 

44  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  there  ain't  a  nigger  in 
the  county  got  a  better  character  for  honesty  and  hard 
work  than  he,  but  he's  too  important — has  got  the  big 
head,  as  we  call  it." 

41  1  don't  understand  what  you  mean,"  said  the  chair 
man. 

11  Why  he  ain't  respectful,"  said  the  other.  "Talks 
as  independent  as  if  he  was  a  white  man." 

14  Well,  he  has  as  much  right  to  talk  independently  as 
a  white  man.  He  is  just  as  free,"  said  the  chairman 
sharply. 

4  Yes  ;  but  he  ain't  white,"  said  the  sheriff  doggedly, 
'4  and  our  people  won't  stand  a  nigger's  puttin'  on  such 
airs.  Why,  Captain,"  he  continued  in  a  tone  which 
showed  that  he  felt  that  the  fact  he  was  about  to  announce 
must  carry  conviction  even  to  the  incredulous  heart  of 
the  Yankee  officer.  "  You  just  ought  to  see  his  place 
down  at  Red  Wing.  Damned  if  he  ain't  better  fixed  up 
than  lots  of  white  men  in  the  county.  He's  got  a  good 
house,  and  a  terbacker-barn,  and  a  church,  and  a  nigger 
school-house,  and  stock,  and  one  of  the  finest  crops  of 
terbacker  in  the  county.  Oh,  I  tell  you,  he's  cutting  a 
wide  swath,  he  is." 


THE   TOGA    VIR1LIS.  49 

"  You  don't  tell  me,"  said  the  chairman  with  interest. 
"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  There  appears  to  be  good  stuff 
in  the  fellow.  He  seems  to  have  his  own  ideas  about 
things,  too." 

"  Yes,  that's  the  trouble,"  responded  the  sheriff. 
"  Our  people  ain't  used  to  that  and  won't  stand  it.  He's 
putting  on  altogether  too  much  style  for  a  nigger." 

"  Pshaw,"  said  the  chairman,  "  if  there  were  more 
like  him  it  would  be  better  for  everybody.  A  man  like 
him  is  worth  something  for  an  example.  If  all  the  race 
were  of  his  stamp  there  would  be  more  hope." 

'  The  devil  !"  returned  the  sheriff,  with  a  sneering 
laugh,  "  if  they  were  all  like  him,  a  white  man  couldn't 
live  in  the  country.  They'd  be  so  damned  sassy  and 
important  that  we'd  have  to  kill  the  last  one  of  'em  to 
have  any  peace. ' ' 

"  Fie,  sheriff,"  laughed  the  chairman  good-naturedly  ; 
"  you  seem  to  be  vexed  at  the  poor  fellow  for  his  thrift, 
and  because  he  is  doing  well." 

"  I  am  a  white  man,  sir  ;  and  I  don't  like  to  see  nig 
gers  gittin'  above  us.  Them's  my  sentiments,"  was  the 
reply.  "  And  that's  the  way  our  people  feel." 

There  was  a  half-suppressed  murmur  of  applause 
among  the  group  of  white  men  at  this.  The  chairman 
responded, 

"  No  doubt,  and  yet  I  believe  you  are  wrong.  Now, 
I  can't  help  liking  the  fellow  for  his  sturdy  manhood. 
He  may  be  a  trifle  too  positive,  but  it  is  a  good  fault.  I 
think  he  has  the  elements  of  a  good  citizen,  and  I  can't 
understand  why  you  feel  so  toward  him." 

There  were  some  appreciative  and  good-natured  cries 
of  "  Darnow,"  "  Listen  at  him,"  "  Now  you're  talkin'," 
from  the  colored  men  at  this  reply. 

"  Oh,  that's   because   you're   a   Yankee,"    said    the 


5  o  B RICA'S   I VI TUO  U  T  S  TKA  I V. 

sheriff,  with  commiserating  scorn.  "You  don't  think, 
no\v,  that  it's  any  harm  to  talk  that  way  before  niggers 
and  set  them  against  the  white  people  either,  I  suppose?" 

The  chairman  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  as  he  replied, 

"  No,  indeed,  I  don't.  If  you  call  that  setting  the 
blacks  against  the  whites,  the  sooner  they  are  by  the  ears 
the  better.  If  you  are  so  thin-skinned  that  you  can't 
allow  a  colored  man  to  think,  talk,  act,  and  prosper 
like  a  man,  the  sooner  you  get  over  your  squeamishness 
the  better.  For  me,  I  am  interested  in  this  Nimbus. 
We  have  to  go  to  Red  Wing  and  report  on  it  as  a  place 
for  holding  a  poll  and  I  am  bound  to  see  more  of  him." 

"  Oh,  you'll  see  enough  of  him  if  you  go  there,  never 
fear,"  was  the  reply. 

There  was  a  laugh  from  the  white  men  about  the 
sheriff,  a  sort  of  cheer  from  the  colored  men  in  waiting, 
and  the  business  of  the  board  went  on  without  further 
reference  to  the  new-made  citizen. 

The  slave  who  had  been  transformed  into  a  "  contra 
band'  '  and  mustered  as  a  soldier  under  one  name,  married 
under  another,  and  now  enfranchised  under  a  third, 
returned  to  his  home  to  meditate  upon  his  transforma 
tions — as  we  found  him  doing  in  our  first  chapter. 

The  reason  for  these  metamorphoses,  and  their  conse 
quences,  might  well  puzzle  a  wiser  head  than  that  of  the 
many-named  but  unlettered  Nimbus. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

DAMON    AND    PYTHIAS. 

AFTER  his  soliloquy  in  regard  to  his  numerous  names, 
as  given  in  our  first  chapter,  Nimbus  turned  away  from 
the  gate  near  which  he  had  been  standing,  crossed  the 
yard  in  front  of  his  house,  and  entered  a  small  cabin 
which  stood  near  it. 

"  Dar  !  'Liab,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  and  handed  the 
paper  which  he  had  been  examining  to  the  person  ad 
dressed,  "  I  reckon  I'se  free  now.  I  feel  ez  ef  I  wuz 
'bout  half  free,  ennyhow.  I  wuz  a  sojer,  an'  fought  fer 
freedom.  I've  got  my  house  an'  bit  o'  Ian',  wife,  chillen, 
crap,  an'  stock,  an'  it's  all  mine.  An'  now  I'se  done 
been  registered,  an'  when  de  'lection  comes  off,  kin  vote 
jes'  ez  hard  an'  ez  well  an'  ez  often  ez  ole  Marse  Desmit. 
I  hain't  felt  free  afore — leastways  I  hain't  felt  right  cer 
tain  on't ;  but  now  I  reckon  I'se  all  right,  fact  an'  truth. 
What  you  tinks  on't,  'Liab  ?" 

The  person  addressed  was  sitting  on  a  low  seat  under 
the  one  window  which  was  cut  into  the  west  side  of  the 
snugly-built  log  cabin.  The  heavy  wooden  shutter 
swung  back  over  the  bench.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
room  was  a  low  cot,  and  a  single  splint-bottomed  chair 
stood  against  the  open  .door.  The  house  contained  no 
other  furniture. 

The  bench  which  he  occupied  was  a  queer  compound 
of  table,  desk,  and  work-bench.  It  had  the  leathern  seat 
of  a  shoemaker's  bench,  except  that  it  was  larger  and 
wider.  As  the  occupant  sat  with  his  back  to  the  window, 
on  his  kft  were  the  shallow  boxes  of  a  shoemaker's 
bench,  and  along  its  edge  the  awls  and  other  tools  of 

5* 


52  JIXICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

that  craft  were  stuck  in  leather  loops  secured  by  tacks, 
as  is  the  custom  of  the  Crispin  the  world  over.  On  the 
right  was  a  table  whose  edge  was  several  inches  above 
the  seat,  and  on  which  were  some  books,  writing  ma 
terials,  a  slate,  a  bundle  of  letters  tied  together  with  a 
piece  of  shoe-thread,  and  some  newspapers  and  pamph 
lets  scattered  about  in  a  manner  which  showed  at  a 
glance  that  the  owner  was  unaccustomed  to  their  care, 
but  which  is  yet  quite  indescribable.  On  the  wall  above, 
this  table,  but  within  easy  reach  of  the  sitter's  hand, 
hung  a  couple  of  narrow  hanging  shelves,  on  which 
a  few  books  were  neatly  arranged.  One  lay  open  on  the 
table,  with  a  shoemaker's  last  placed  across  it  to  prevent 
its  closing. 

Eliab  was  already  busily  engaged  in  reading  the  cer 
tificate  which  Nimbus  had  given  him.  The  sun,  now 
near  its  setting,  shone  in  at  the  open  door  and  fell  upon 
him  as  he  read.  He  was  a  man  apparently  about  the 
age  of  Nimbus — younger  rather  than  older — having  a 
fine  countenance,  almost  white,  but  with  just  enough  of 
brown  in  its  sallow  paleness  to  suggest  the  idea  of  col 
ored  blood,  in  a  region  where  all  degrees  of  admixture 
were  by  no  means  rare.  A  splendid  head  of  black  hair 
waved  above  his  broad,  full  forehead,  and  an  intensely 
black  silky  beard  and  mustache  framed  the  lower  por 
tion  of  his  face  most  fittingly.  His  eyes  were  soft  and 
womanly,  though  there  was  a  patient  boldness  about 
their  great  brown  pupils  and  a  directness  of  gaze  which 
suited  well  the  bearded  face  beneath.  The  lines  of  suf 
fering  were  deeply  cut  upon  the  thoughtful  brow  and 
around  the  liquid  eyes,  and  showed  in  the  mobile  work 
ings  of  the  broad  mouth,  half  shaded  by  the  dark  mus 
tache.  The  face  was  not  a  handsome  one,  but  there  was 
a  serious  and  earnest  calmness  about  it  which  gave  it  an 


DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  53 

unmistakable  nobility  of  expression  and  prompted  one 
to  look  more  closely  at  the  man  and  his  surroundings. 

The  shoulders  were  broad  and  square,  the  chest  was 
full,  the  figure  erect,  and  the  head  finely  poised.  He 
was  dressed  with  unusual  neatness  for  one  of  his 
race  and  surroundings,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write. 
One  comprehended  at  a  glance  that  this  worker  and 
learner  was  also  deformed.  There  was  that  in  his  sur 
roundings  which  showed  that  he  was  not  as  other  men. 
The  individuality  of  weakness  and  suffering  had  left  its 
indelible  stamp  upon  the  habitation  which  he  occupied. 
Yet  so  erect  and  self-helping  in  appearance  was  the  figure 
on  the  cobbler's  bench  that  one  for  a  moment  failed  to 
note  in  what  the  affliction  consisted.  Upon  closer 
observation  he  saw  that  the  lower  limbs  were  sharply 
flexed  and  drawn  to  the  leftward,  so  that  the  right 
foot  rested  on  its  side  under  the  left  thigh.  This  in 
clined  the  body  somewhat  to  the  right,  so  that  the  right 
arm  rested  naturally  upon  the  table  for  support  when  not 
employed.  These  limbs,  especially  below  the  knees, 
were  shrunken  and  distorted.  The  shoe  of  the  right  foot 
whose  upturned  sole  rested  on  the  left  leg  just  above  the 
ankle,  was  many  sizes  too  small  for  a  development  har 
monious  with  the  trunk. 

Nimbus  sat  down  in  the  splint-bottomed  chair  by  the 
door  and  fanned  himself  with  his  dingy  hat  while  the 
other  read. 

"How  is  dis,  Nimbus?  What  does  dis  mean? 
Nimbus  Ware1}  Where  did  you  get  dat  name?"  he 
asked  at  length,  raising  his  eyes  and  looking  in  pained 
surprise  toward  the  new  voter. 

"  Now,  Bre'er  'Liab,  don't  talk  dat  'ere  way  ter  Nim 
bus,  ef  yo  please.  Don't  do  it  now.  Yer  knows  I  can't 
help  it.  Ebberybody  want  ter  call  me  by  ole  Mahs'r's 


54  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

name,  an'  dat  I  can't  abide  nohow  ;  an'  when  I  kicks 
'bout  it,  dey  jes  gib  me  some  odder  one.  Dey  all  seems 
ter  tink  I'se  boun'  ter  hev  two  names,  though  I  hain't 
got  no  manner  o'  right  ter  but  one." 

44  But  how  did  you  come  to  have  dis  one — Ware  ?ff 
persisted  Eliab. 

"  Wai,  you  see,  Bre'er  'Liab,  deboss  man  at  der  regis- 
terin'  he  ax  me  fcr  my  las'  name,  an'  I  tell  him  I  hadn't 
got  none,  jes  so.  Den  Sheriff  Gleason,  he  put  in  his  oar, 
jes  ez  he  allus  does,  an'  he  say  my  name  wuz  Desmit, 
atter  ole  Mahs'r.  Dat  made  me  mad,  an'  I  'spute  him, 
an*  sez  I,  '  I  won't  hev  no  sech  name'.  Den  de  boss  man, 
he  shet  up  Marse  Gleason  purty  smart  like,  and  he  sed 
I'd  a  right  ter  enny  name  I  chose  ter  carry,  kase  nobody 
hadn't  enny  sort  o'  right  ter  fasten  enny  name  at  all  on 
ter  me  'cept  myself.  But  he  sed  I'd  better  hev  two,  kase 
most  other  folks  hed  'em.  So  I  axed  Marse  Si  War'  ef 
he'd  lend  me  his  name  jes  fer  de  'casion,  yer  know,  an' 
he  sed  he  hadn't  no  'jection  ter  it.  So  I  tole  der  boss 
man  ter  put  it  down,  an'  I  reckon  dar  'tis." 

1  Yes,  here  it  is,  sure  'nough,  Nimbus  ;  but  didn't  you 
promise  me  you  wouldn't  have  so  many  names  ?" 

"  Co'se  I  did  ;  an'  I  did  try,  but  they  all  'llowed  I 
got  ter  have  two  names  whe'er  er  no." 

'  Then  why  didn't  you  take  your  old  mahs'r's  name, 
like  de  rest,  and  not  have  all  dis  trouble  ?  " 

"  Now,  'Liab,  yer  knows  thet  I  won't  nebbtr  do  dat." 

"  But  why  not,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  Kase  I  ain't  a-gwine  ter  brand  my  chillen  wid  no 
sech  slave-mark  !  Nebber  !  You  hear  dat,  'Liab  ?  I 
hain't  got  no  ill-will  gin  Marse  Desmit,  not  a  mite — only 
'bout  dat  ar  lickin,  an*  dat  ain't  nuffin  now  ;  but  I 
ain't  gwine  ter  war  his  name  ner  giv  it  ter  my  chillen  ter 
mind  'em  dat  der  daddy  wuz  jes  anudder  man's  critter 


DAMON  AND   PYTHIAS.  55 

one  time.  I  tell  you  I  can't  do  hit,  nohow  ;  an'  I  won't, 
Bre'er  'Liab.  I  don't  hate  Marse  Desmit,  but  1  does  hate 
slavery — dat  what  made  me  his — worse'n  a  pilot  hates  a 
rattlesnake  ;  an'  I  hate  everyting  dat  'minds  me  on't,  I 
do  !" 

The  black  Samson  had  risen  in  his  excitement  and 
now  sat  down  upon  the  bench  by  the  other. 

"  I  don't  blame  you  for  dat,  Nimbus,  but — ' 

"  I  don't  want  to  heah  no  '  buts  '  'bout  it,  an'  I 
won't." 

"  But  the  chillen,  Nimbus.  You  don't  want  dem  to 
be  different  from  others  and  have  no  surname  ?" 

"  Dat's  a  fac',  'Liab,"  said  Nimbus,  springing  to  his 
feet.  "  I  nebber  t'ought  o'  dat.  Dey  must  hev  a  name, 
an'  I  mus'  hev  one  ter  gib  'em,  but  how's  I  gwine  ter 
git  one  ?  Dar's  nobody's  got  enny  right  ter  gib  me  one, 
an'  ef  I  choose  one  dis  week  what's  ter  hender  my  takin' 
ob  anudder  nex  week  ?" 

"Perhaps  nothing,"  answered  'Liab,  "but  yourself. 
You  must  not  do  it." 

"  Pshaw,  now,"  said  Nimbus,  '"  what  sort  o'  way  is 
dat  ter  hev  things  ?  I  tell  ye  what  orter  been  done, 
'Liab  ;  when  de  law  married  us  all,  jes  out  of  han'  like, 
it  orter  hev  named  us  too.  Hit  mout  hev  been  done, 
jes  ez  well's  not.  Dar's  old  Mahs'r  now,  he'd  hev 
named  all  de  niggas  in  de  county  in  a  week,  easy.  An' 
dey'd  been  good  names,  too." 

"  But  you'd  have  bucked  at  it  ef  he  had,"  said  'Liab, 
good-naturedly. 

"  No  I  wouldn't,  'Liab.  I  hain't  got  nuffin  'gin  ole 
Mahrs'r.  He  war  good  enough  ter  me — good  'nuff.  1 
only  hate  what  made  him  '  Old  Mahs'r,'  an'  dat  I  does 
hate.  Oh,  my  God,  how  I  does  hate  it,  Liab  !  I  hates 
de  berry  groun'  dat  a  slave's  wukked  on  !  I  do,  I  swar  ! 


56  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

When  I  wuz  a-comin'  home  to-day  an'  seed  de  gullies 
'long  der  way,  hit  jes  made  me  cuss,  kase  dey  wuz  dar 
a  testifyin'  ob  de  ole  time  when  a  man  war  a  critter — a 
dog — a  nuffin  !" 

"  Now  you  oughtn't  to  say  dat,  Nimbus.  Just  think 
of  me.  Warn't  you  better  off  as  a  slave  than  I  am 
free?" 

44  No,  I  warn't.  I'd  ruther  be  a  hundred  times  wuss 
off  ner  you,  an'  free,  than  ez  strong  as  I  am  an'  a  slave." 

"  But  think  how  much  more  freedom  is  worth  to  you. 
Here  you  are  a  voter,  and  I — 

"  Bre'er  'Liab,"  exclaimed  Nimbus,  starting  suddenly 
up,  44  what  for  you  no  speak  'bout  dat  afore.  Swar  to 
God  I  nebber  tink  on't — not  a  word,  till  dis  bressed 
minit.  Why  didn't  yer  say  nuffin'  'bout  bein'  registered 
yo'self,  eh  ?  Yer  knowed  I'd  a  tuk  yer  ef  I  hed  ter  tote 
ye  on  my  back,  which  I  wouldn't.  I  wouldn't  gone  a 
step  widout  yer  ef  I'd  only  a  t'ought.  Yer  knows  I 
wouldn't." 

44  Course  I  does,  Nimbus,  but  I  didn't  want  ter  make 
ye  no  trouble,  nor  take  the  mule  out  of  the  crap,"  an 
swered  'Liab  apologetically. 

14  Damn  de  crap  !"  said  Nimbus  impetuously. 

14  Don't ;  don't  swear,  Nimbus,  if  you  please." 

44  Can't  help  it,  'Liab,  when  you  turn  fool  an*  treat  me 
dat  'ere  way.  I'd  swar  at  ye  ef  yer  wuz  in  de  pulpit  an* 
dat  come  ober  me,  jes  at  de  fust.  Yer  knows  Nimbus 
better  ner  dat.  Now  see  heah,  'Liab  Hill,  yer's  gwine 
ter  go  an'  be  registered  termorrer,  jes  ez  sure  ez  ter- 
morrer  comes.  Here  we  thick-headed  dunces  hez  been 
up  dar  to-day  a-takin'  de  oath  an*  makin'  bleve  we's  full 
grown  men,  an'  here's  you,  dat  knows  more  nor  a  ten- 
acre  lot  full  on  us,  a  lyin'  here  an'  habin'  no  chance  at 
all." 


DAMON  AND   PYTHIAS.  57 

"  But  you  want  to  get  de  barn  full,  and  can't  afford  to 
spend  any  more  time,"  protested  'Liab. 

"  Nebber  you  min'  'bout  de  barn.  Dat's  Nimbus' 
business,  an'  he'll  take  keer  on't.  Let  him  alone  fer 
dat.  Yis,  honey,  I'se  comin'  d'reckly  !"  he  shouted,  as 
his  wife  called  him  from  his  own  cabin. 

"  Now  Bre'er  'Liab,  yer  comes  ter  supper  wid  us. 
Lugena's  jes'  a  callin'  on't." 

"  Oh,  don't,  Nimbus,"  said  the  other,  shrinking 
away.  "  I  can't  !  You  jes  send  one  of  the  chillen  in 
with  it,  as  usual." 

"  No  yer  don't,"  said  Nimbus  ;  "  yer'sbeen  a  scoldin' 
an'  abusin'  me  all  dis  yer  time,  an'  now  I'se  gwine  ter 
hab  my  way  fer  a  little  while." 

He  went  to  the  door  and  called  : 

"  Gena  !  Oh,  Gena  !"  and  as  his  wife  did  not  answer, 
he  said  to  one  of  his  children,  "  Oh,  Axylone,  jes  run 
inter  de  kitchen,  son,  an'  tell  yer  ma  ter  put  on  anudder 
plate,  fer  Bre'er  'Liab's  comin'  ober  ter  take  a  bite  wid 
us." 

Eliab  kept  on  protesting,  but  it  was  in  vain.  Nimbus 
bent  over  him  as  tenderly  as  a  mother  over  the  cradle  of 
her  first-born,  clasped  his  arms  about  him,  and  lifting 
him  from  the  bench  bore  him  away  to  his  own  house. 

With  an  unconscious  movement,  which  was  evidently 
acquired  by  long  experience,  the  afflicted  man  cast  one 
arm  over  Nimbus'  shoulder,  put  the  other  around  him, 
and  leaning  across  the  stalwart  breast  of  his  friend  so 
evenly  distributed  his  weight  that  the  other  bore  him 
with  ease.  Entering  his  own  house,  Nimbus  placed  his 
burden  in  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  while  he 
himself  took  his  seat  on  one  of  the  wooden  benches  at 
the  side. 

"I  jes  brought  Bre'er  'Liab  in  ter  supper,  honey," 


5§  £  KICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

said  he  to  his  wife;  "  kase  I  see'd  he  war  gettin'  inter  de 
dumps  like,  an'  I  'llowed  yer'd  chirk  him  up  a  bit  ef 
yer  jes  hed  him  over  h'yer  a  while." 

"  Shan't  do  it,"  said  the  bright-eyed  woman  saucily. 

11  Kase  why?"  queried  her  husband. 

"  Kase  Bre'er  'Liab  don't  come  oftener.   Dat's  why." 

"  Dar,  now,  jes  see  what  yer  done  git  fer  being  so 
contrary-like,  will  yer?"  said  the  master  to  his  guest. 
H'yer,  you  Axylone,"  he  continued  to  his  eldest  born, 
"  fo'd  up  yer  han's  while  Bre'er  'Liab  ax  de  blessinV 
You,  too,  Capting,"  shaking  his  finger  at  a  roll  of  ani 
mated  blackness  on  the  end  of  the  seat  opposite. 
"  Now,  Bre'er  'Liab." 

The  little  black  fingers  were  interlocked,  the  close- 
clipped,  kinky  heads  were  bowed  upon  them  ;  the  master 
of  the  house  bent  reverently  over  his  plate  ;  the  plump 
young  wife  crossed  her  hands  demurely  on  the  bright 
handle  of  the  big  coffee-pot  by  which  she  stood,  and 
"  Bre'er  'Liab,"  clasping  his  slender  fingers,  uplifted  his 
eyes  and  hands  to  heaven,  and  uttered  a  grace  which 
grew  into  a  prayer.  His  voice  was  full  of  thankfulness, 
and  tears  crept  from  under  his  trembling  lids. 

The  setting  sun,  which  looked  in  upon  the  peaceful 
scene,  no  doubt  flickered  and  giggled  with  laughter  as  he 
sank  to  his  evening  couch  with  the  thought,  "  How 
quick  these  '  sassy  '  free-niggers  do  put  on  airs  like  white 
folks  !" 


In  the  tobacco-field  on  the  hillside  back  of  his  house, 
Nimbus  and  his  wife,  Lugena,  wrought  in  the  light  of  the 
full  moon  nearly  all  the  night  which  followed,  and  early 
on  the  morrow  Nimbus  harnessed  his  mule  into  his  can 
vas-covered  wagon,  in  which,  upon  a  bed  of  straw,  re- 


DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  59 

clined  his  friend  Eliab  Hill,  and  drove  again  to  the  place 
of  registration.  On  arriving  there  he  took  his  friend  in 
his  arms,  carried  him  in  and  sat  him  on  the  railing  be 
fore  the  Board.  Clasping  the  blanket  close  about  his 
deformed  extremities  the  cripple  leaned  upon  his  friend's 
shoulder  and  answered  the  necessary  questions  with 
calmness  and  precision. 

"  There's  a  pair  for  you,  captain,"  said  Gleason,  nod 
ding  good-naturedly  toward  Nimbus  as  he  bore  his  help 
less  charge  again  to  the  wagon. 

"  Is  he  white  ?"  asked  the  officer,  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"White?"  exclaimed  Sheriff  Gleason,  with  a  laugh. 
"  No,  indeed  !  He's  a  nigger  preacher  who  lives  with 
Nimbus  down  at  Red  Wing.  They're  great  cronies — 
always  together.  I  expect  he's  at  the  bottom  of  all  the 
black  nigger's  perversity,  though  he  always  seems  as 
smooth  and  respectful  as  you  please.  He's  a  deep  one. 
I  'llow  he  does  all  the  scheming,  and  just  makes  Nimbus 
a  cat's-paw  to  do  his  work.  I  don't  know  much  about 
him,  though.  He  hardly  ever  talks  with  anybody." 

"  He  seems  a  very  remarkable  man,"  said  the  officer. 

"  Oh,  he  is,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  Even  in  slave  times 
he  was  a  very  influential  man  among  the  niggers,  and 
since  freedom  he  and  Nimbus  together  rule  the-  whole 
settlement.  I  don't  suppose  there  are  ten  white  men  in 
the  county  who  could  control,  square  out  and  out,  as 
many  votes  as  these  two  will  have  in  hand  when  they 
once  get  to  voting." 

"  Was  he  a  slave  ?     What  is  his  history  ?" 

"  I  don't  exactly  know,"  answered  the  sheriff.  "  He 
is  quite  a  young  man,  and  somehow  I  never  happened  to 
hear  of  him  till  some  time  during  the  war.  Then  he  was 
a  sort  of  prophet  among  them,  and  while  he  did  a  power 
of  praying  for  you  Yanks,  he  always  counselled  the  col- 


60  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

ored  people  to  be  civil  and  patient,  and  not  try  to  run 
away  or  go  to  cutting  up,  but  just  to  wait  till  the  end 
came.  He  was  just  right,  too,  and  his  course  quieted 
the  white  folks  down  here  on  the  river,  where  there  was 
a  big  slave  population,  more  than  a  little." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  more  of  him,"  said  the  chair 
man. 

"  All  right,"  said  Gleason,  looking  around.  "  If  Hes- 
den  Le  Moyne  is  here,  I'll  get  him  to  tell  you  all  about 
him,  at  noon.  If  he  is  not  here  then,  he  will  come  in 
before  night,  I'm  certain." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A     FRIENDLY     PROLOGUE. 

As  they  went  from  the  place  of  registration  to  their 
dinner  at  the  hotel,  the  sheriff,  walking  beside  the  chair 
man,  said  :  "  I  spoke  to  Le  Moyne  about  that  negro  fel- 
Jow,  Eliab  Hill,  and  he  says  he's  very  willing  to  tell  you 
all  he  knows  about  him  ;  but,  as  there  are  some  private 
matters  connected  with  the  story,  he  prefers  to  come  to 
your  room  after  dinner,  rather  than  speak  of  it  more 
publicly." 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  him  if  he  will 
do  so,"  said  Pardee. 

"  You  will  find  him  one  of  the  very  finest  men  you 
ever  met,  I'm  thinking,"  continued  Gleason.  "  His 
father,  Casaubon  Le  Moyne,  was  very  much  of  a  gentle 
man.  He  came  from  Virginia,  and  was  akin  to  the  Le 
Moynes  of  South  Carolina,  one  of  the  best  of  those  old 
French  families  that  brag  so  much  of  their  Huguenot 


A    FRIENDLY  PROLOGUE.  61 

blood.  I  never  believed  in  it  myself,  but  they  are  a 
mighty  elegant  family  ;  no  doubt  of  that.  I've  got  the 
notion  that  they  were  not  as  well  off  as  they  might  be. 
Perhaps  the  family  got  too  big  for  the  estate.  That 
would  happen  with  these  old  families,  you  know  ;  but 
they  were  as  high-toned  and  honorable  as  if  their  fore 
bears  had  been  kings.  Not  proud,  I  don't  mean — not 
a  bit  of  that — but  high-spirited  and  hot-tempered. 

"  His  mother  was  a  Richards — Hester  Richards — the 
daughter  of  old  man  Jeems  Richards.  The  family  was  a 
mighty  rich  one  ;  used  to  own  all  up  and  down  the  river 
on  both  sides,  from  Red  Wing  to  Mulberry  Hill,  where 
Hesden  now  lives.  Richards  had  a  big  family  of  boys 
and  only  one  gal,  who  was  the  youngest.  The  boys  was 
all  rather  tough  customers,  I've  heard  say,  taking 
after  their  father,  who  was  about  as  hard  a  man  to  get 
along  with  as  was  ever  in  this  country.  He  came  from 
up  North  somewhere  about  1790,  when  everybody  thought 
this  pea-vine  country  was  a  sort  of  new  Garden  of  Eden. 
He  was  a  well  educated  and  capable  man,  but  had  a  ter 
rible  temper.  He  let  the  boys  go  to  the  devil  their  own 
way,  just  selling  off  a  plantation  now  and  then  and  pay 
ing  their  debts.  He  had  so  much  land  that  it  was  a  good 
thing  for  him  to  get  rid  of  it.  But  he  doted  on  the  gal, 
and  sent  her  off  to  school  and  travelled  with  her  and  give 
her  every  sort  of  advantage.  She  was  a  beauty,  and  as 
sweet  and  good  as  she  was  pretty.  How  she  come  to 
marry  Casaubon  Le  Moyne  nobody  ever  knew  ;  but  it's 
just  my  opinion  that  it  was  because  they  loved  each 
other,  and  nothing  else.  They  certainly  were  the  best 
matched  couple  that  I  ever  saw.  They  had  but  one 
child — this  young  man  Hesden.  His  mother  was  always 
an  invalid  after  his  birth  ;  in  fact  hasn't  walked  a  step 
since  that  time.  She  was  a  very  remarkable  woman, 


62  Rft/C/CS  WITHOUT  STKAW. 

though,  and  in  spite  of  her  sickness  took  charge  of  her 
son's  education  and  fitted  him  for  college  all  by  herself. 
The  boy  grew  up  sorter  quiet  like,  probably  on  account 
of  being  in  his  mother's  sick  room  so  much  ;  but  there 
wasn't  anything  soft  about  him,  after  all. 

44  The  old  man  Casaubon  was  a  Unioner — the  strongest 
kind.  Mighty  few  of  them  in  this  county,  which  was 
one  of  the  largest  slave-holding  counties  in  the  State.  It 
never  had  anything  but  a  big  Democratic  majority  in  it, 
in  the  old  times.  I  think  the  old  man  Le  Moyne,  run  for 
the  Legislature  here  some  seven  times  before  he  was  elect 
ed,  and  then  it  was  only  on  his  personal  popularity.  That 
was  the  only  time  the  county  ever  had  a  Whig  representa 
tive  even.  When  the  war  came  on,  the  old  man  was  right 
down  sick.  I  do  believe  he  saw  the  end  from  the  begin 
ning.  I've  heard  him  tell  things  almost  to  a  fraction 
jest  as  they  came  out  afterward.  Well,  the  young  man 
Hesden,  he  had  his  father's  notions,  of  course,  but  he 
was  pluck.  He  couldn't  have  been  a  Le  Moyne,  or  a 
Richards  either,  without  that.  I  remember,  not  long 
after  the  war  begun — perhaps  in  the  second  year,  before 
the  conscription  came  on,  anyhow — he  came  into  town 
riding  of  a  black  colt  that  he  had  raised.  I  don't  think 
it  had  been  backed  more  than  a  few  times,  and  it  was 
just  as  fine  as  a  fiddle.  I've  had  some  fine  horses  my 
self,  and  believe  I  know  what  goes  to  make  up  a  good 
nag,  but  I've  never  seen  one  that  suited  my  notion  as 
well  as  that  black.  Le  Moyne  had  taken  a  heap  of  pains 
with  him.  A  lot  of  folks  gathered  'round  and  was  ad 
miring  the  beast,  and  asking  questions  about  his  pedigree 
and  the  like,  when  all  at  once  a  big,  lubberly  fellow 
named  Timlow — Jay  Timlow — said  it  was  a  great  pity 
that  such  a  fine  nag  should  belong  to  a  Union  man  an' 
a  traitor  to  his  country.  You  know,  captain,  that's  what 


A    FRIENDLY  PROLOGUE.  63 

we  called  Union  men  in  them  days.  He  hadn't  more'n 
got  the  words  out  of  his  mouth  afore  Hesden  hit  him. 
I'd  no  idea  he  could  strike  such  a  blow.  Timlow  was 
forty  pounds  heavier  than  he,  but  it  staggered  him  back 
four  or  five  steps,  and  Le  Moyne  follered  him  up,  hitting 
just  about  as  fast  as  he  could  straighten  his  arm,  till  he 
dropped.  The  queerest  thing  about  it  was  that  the 
hoise  follered  right  along,  and  when  Timlow  come  down 
with  his  face  all  battered  up,  and  Le  Moyne  wheeled 
about  and  started  over  to  the  Court  House,  the  horse 
kept  on  follerin'  him  up  to  the  very  steps.  Le  Moyne 
went  into  the  Court  House  and  stayed  about  ten  minutes. 
Then  he  came  out  and  walked  straight  across  the  square 
to  where  the  crowd  was  around  Timlow,  who  had  been 
washing  the  blood  off  his  face  at  the  pump.  Le  Moyne 
was  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  Timlow  was  jest  a-cussing 
his  level  best  about  what  he  would  do  when  he  sot  eyes 
on  him  again.  I  thought  there  might  be  more  trouble, 
and  I  told  Timlow  to  hush  his  mouth — 1  was  a  deputy 
then — and  then  I  told  Le  Moyne  he  mustn't  come  any 
nearer.  He  was  only  a  few  yards  away,  with  a  paper  in 
his  hand,  and  that  horse  just  behind  him.  He  stopped 
when  I  called  him,  and  said  : 

'  You  needn't  fear  my  coming  for  any  further 
difficulty,  gentlemen.  I  merely  want  to  say  ' — and  he 
held  up  the  paper — '  that  I  have  enlisted  in  the  army 
of  the  Confederate  States,  and  taken  this  horse  to  ride — 
given  him  to  the  Government.  And  I  want  to  say  further, 
that  if  Jay  Timlow  wants  to  do  any  fighting,  and  will  go 
and  enlist,  I'll  furnish  him  a  horse,  too.' 

"  With  that  he  jumped  on  his  horse  and  rode  away,  fol 
lowed  by  a  big  cheer,  while  Jay  Timlow  stood  on  the  pump 
platform  sopping  his  head  with  his  handkerchief,  his  eyes 
as  big  as  saucers,  as  they  say,  from  surprise.  We  were  all 


64  BKICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

surprised,  for  that  matter.  As  soon  as  we  got  over  that 
a  little  we  began  to  rally  Timlow  over  the  outcome  of 
his  little  fracas.  There  wasn't  no  such  timber  in  him  as 
in  young  Le  Moyne,  of  course — a  big  beefy  fellow — but 
he  couldn't  stand  that,  and  almost  before  we  had  got  well 
started  he  put  on  his  hat,  looked  round  at  the  crowd  a 
minute,  and  said,  *  Damned  if  I  don't  do  it ! '  He 
marched  straight  over  to  the  Court  House  and  did  it,  too. 

"Le  Moyne  stood  up  to  his  bargain,  and  they  both 
went  out  in  the  same  company  a  few  days  after 
ward.  They  became  great  friends,  and  they  do  say  the 
Confederacy  had  mighty  few  better  soldiers  than  those 
two  boys.  Le  Moyne  was  offered  promotion  time  and 
again,  but  he  wouldn't  take  it.  He  said  he  didn't  like 
war,  did'nt  believe  in  it,  and  did'nt  want  no  responsi 
bility  only  for  himself.  Just  about  the  last  fighting  they 
had  over  about  Appomattox — perhaps  the  very  day  be 
fore  the  Surrender — he  lost  that  horse  and  his  left  arm 
a-fighting  over  that  same  Jay  Timlow,  who  had  got  a  ball 
in  the  leg,  and  Le  Moyne  was  trying  to  keep  him  out  of 
the  hands  of  you  Yanks. 

"  He  got  back  after  a  while,  and  has  been  living  with 
his  mother  on  the  old  plantation  ever  since.  He  married 
a  cousin  just  before  he  went  into  the  service — more  to 
have  somebody  to  leave  with  his  ma  than  because  he 
wanted  a  wife,  folks  said.  The  old  man,  Colonel  Casau- 
bon,  died  during  the  war.  He  never  seemed  like  him 
self  after  the  boy  went  into  the  army.  I  saw  him  once 
or  twice,  and  I  never  did  see  such  a  change  in  any  man. 
Le  Moyne's  wife  died,  too.  She  left  a  little  boy,  who 
with  Le  Moyne  and  his  ma  are  all  that's  left  of  the  family. 
I  don't  reckon  there  ever  was  a  man  thought  more  of  his 
mother,  or  had  a  mother  more  worth  setting  store  by> 
than  Hesden  Le  Moyne." 


A    BRUISED   REED.  65 

They  had  reached  the  hotel  when  this  account  was 
concluded,  and  after  dinner  the  sheriff  came  to  the  cap 
tain's  room  and  introduced  a  slender  young  man  in 
neatly  fitting  jeans,  with  blue  eyes,  a  dark  brown  beard, 
and  an  empty  coat-sleeve,  as  Mr.  Hesden  Le  Moyne. 

He  put  his  felt  hat  under  the  stump  of  his  left  arm 
and  extended  his  right  hand  as  he  said  simply  : 

"  The  sheriff  said  you  wished  to  see  me  about  Eliab 
Hill." 

"  I  did,"  was  the  response  ;  "  but  after  what  he  has 
told  me,  I  desired  to  see  you  much  more  for  yourself." 

The  sheriff  withdrew,  leaving  them  alone  together,  and 
they  fell  to  talking  of  army  life  at  once,  as  old  soldiers 
always  will,  each  trying  to  locate  the  other  in  the  strife 
which  they  had  passed  through  on  opposite  sides. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A     BRUISED     REED, 

"  ELIAB  HILL,"  said  Le  Moyne,  when  they  came  at 
length  to  the  subject  in  relation  to  which  the  interview 
had  been  solicited,  "  was  born  the  slave  of  Potem  Des- 
mit,  on  his  plantation  Knapp-of-Reeds,  in  the  lower  part 
of  the  county.  His  mother  was  a  very  likely  woman, 
considerable  darker  than  he,  but  still  not  more  than  a 
quadroon,  I  should  say.  She  was  brought  from  Colonel 
Desmit's  home  plantation  to  Knapp-of-Reeds  some 
little  time  before  her  child  was  born.  It  was  her  first 
child,  I  believe,  and  her  last  one.  She  was  a  very  slen 
der  woman,  and  though  not  especially  unhealthy,  yet 
never  strong,  being  inclined  to  consumption,  of  which 


66  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRA  IV. 

she  finally  died.  Of  course  his  paternity  is  unknown, 
though  rumor  has  not  been  silent  in  regard  to  it.  It  is 
said  that  a  stubborn  refusal  on  his  mother's  part  to  re 
veal  it  led  Colonel  Desmit,  in  one  of  his  whimsical  moods, 
to  give  the  boy  the  name  he  bears.  However,  he  was 
as  bright  a  child  as  ever  frolicked  about  a  plantation  till 
he  was  some  five  or  six  years  old.  His  mother  had  been 
a  house-servant  before  she  was  sent  to  Knapp-of-Reeds, 
and  being  really  a  supernumerary  there,  my  father  hired 
her  a  year  or  two  afterward  as  a  nurse  for  my  mother, 
who  has  long  been  an  invalid,  as  you  may  be  aware." 
His  listener  nodded  assent,  and  he  went  on  : 
"  Her  child  was  left  at  Knapp-of-Reeds,  but  Saturday 
nights  it  was  brought  over  to  stay  the  Sunday  with  her, 
usually  by  this  boy  Nimbus,  who  was  two  or  three  years 
older  than  he.  The  first  I  remember  of  his  misfortune 
was  one  Saturday,  when  Nimbus  brought  him  over  in  a 
gunny-sack,  on  his  back.  It  was  not  a  great  way,  hardly 
half  a  mile,  but  I  remember  thinking  that  it  was  a  pretty 
smart  tug  for  the  little  black  rascal.  I  was  not  more 
than  a  year  or  two  older  than  he,  myself,  and  not  nearly 
so  strong. 

"  It  seems  that  something  had  happened  to  the  boy,  I 
never  knew  exactly  what — seems  to  me  it  was  a  cold  re 
sulting  from  some  exposure,  which  settled  in  his  legs,  as 
they  say,  producing  rheumatism  or  something  of  that 
kind — so  that  he  could  not  walk  or  hardly  stand  up.  The 
boy  Nimbus  had  almost  the  sole  charge  of  him  during 
the  week,  and  of  course  he  lacked  for  intelligent  treat 
ment.  In  fact,  I  doubt  if  Desmit's  overseer  knew  any 
thing  about  it  until  it  was  too  late  to  do  any  good.  He 
was  a  bright,  cheerful  child,  and  Nimbus  was  the  same 
dogged,  quiet  thing  he  is  now.  So  it  went  on,  until  his 
mother.  Monilop,  found  that  he  had  lost  all  use  of  his 


A    BRUISED  REED.  67 

legs.  They  were  curled  up  at  one  side,  as  you  saw 
them,  and  while  his  body  has  developed  well  they  have 
grown  but  little  in  comparison. 

"  Moniloe  made  a  great  outcry  over  the  child,  to  whom 
she  was  much  attached,  and  finally  wrought  upon  my 
father  and  mother  to  buy  herself  and  her  crippled  boy. 
Colonel  Desmit,  on  whom  the  burden  of  his  maintenance 
would  fall,  and  who  saw  no  method  of  making  him  self- 
supporting,  was  willing  to  sell  the  mother  on  very  mod 
erate  terms  if  my  father  would  take  the  child  and  guar 
antee  his  support.  This  was  done,  and  they  both  became 
my  father's  property.  Neither  forgot  to  be  grateful. 
The  woman  was  my  mother's  faithful  nurse  until  after 
the  war,  when  she  died,  and  I  have  never  been  able  to  fill 
her  place  completely,  since.  I  think  Eliab  learned  his 
letters,  and  perhaps  to  read  a  little,  from  me.  He  was 
almost  always  in  my  mother's  room,  being  brought  in  and 
set  down  upon  a  sheepskin  on  one  side  the  fireplace  in  the 
morning  by  his  mammy.  My  mother  had  great  sympa 
thy  with  his  misfortune,  the  more,  I  suppose,  because  of 
her  own  very  similar  affliction.  She  used  to  teach  him 
to  sew  and  knit,  and  finally,  despite  the  law,  began  to 
encourage  him  to  read.  The  neighbors,  coming  in  and 
finding  him  with  a  book  in  his  hands,  began  to  complain 
of  it,  and  my  father,  in  order  to  silence  all  such  mur 
murs,  manumitted  him  square  out  and  gave  bonds  for 
his  support,  as  the  law  required. 

"  As  he  grew  older  he  remained  more  and  more  in  his 
mother's  cabin,  in  one  corner  of  which  she  had  a  little 
elevated  platform  made  for  him.  He  could  crawl  around 
the  room  by  means  of  his  hands,  and  had  great  skill  in 
clambering  about  by  their  aid.  When  he  was  about  fif 
teen  a  shoemaker  came  to  the  house  to  do  our  plantation 
work.  Eliab  watched  him  closely  all  the  first  day  ;  on 


68  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

the  second  desired  to  help,  and  before  the  month  had 
passed  was  as  good  a  shoemaker  as  his  teacher.  From 
that  time  he  worked  steadily  at  the  trade,  and  managed 
very  greatly  to  reduce  the  cost  of  his  support. 

"  He  was  a  strange  boy,  and  he  and  this  fellow  Nim 
bus  were  always  together  except  when  prevented  by 
the  latter's  tasks.  A  thousand  times  I  have  known  Nim 
bus  to  come  over  long  after  dark  and  leave  before  day 
light,  in  order  to  stay  with  his  friend  over  night.  Not 
unfrequently  he  would  carry  him  home  upon  his  back 
and  keep  him  for  several  days  at  Knapp-of-Reeds,  where 
both  were  prime  favorites,  as  they  were  with  us  also.  As 
they  grew  older  this  attachment  became  stronger.  Many's 
the  time  I  have  passed  there  and  seen  Nimbus  working 
in  the  tobacco  and  Eliab  with  his  hammers  and  lasts 
pounding  away  under  a  tree  near  by.  Having  learned 
to  read,  the  man  was  anxious  to  know  more.  For  a  time 
he  was  indulged,  but  as  the  hot  times  just  preceding  the 
war  came  on,  it  became  indiscreet  for  him  to  be  seen  with 
a  book. 

"  While  he  was  still  very  young  he  began  to  preach, 
and  his  ministrations  were  peculiarly  prudent  and  sensi 
ble.  His  influence  with  his  people,  even  before  emanci 
pation,  was  very  great,  and  has  been  increased  by  his 
correct  and  manly  conduct  since.  I  regard  him,  sir,  as 
one  of  the  most  useful  men  in  the  community. 

"  For  some  reason,  I  have  never  known  exactly  what, 
he  became  anxious  to  leave  my  house  soon  after  Nimbus1 
return  from  the  army,  although  I  had  offered  him  the  free 
use  of  the  little  shop  where  he  and  his  mother  had  lived, 
as  long  as  he  desired.  He  and  Nimbus,  by  some  hook  or 
crook,  managed  to  buy  the  place  at  Red  Wing.  It  was  a 
perfectly  barren  piney  old-field  then,  and  not  thought  of 
any  account  except  for  the  timber  there  was  on  it.  It 


A   BRUISED   REED.  69 

happened  to  be  at  the  crossing  of  two  roads,  and  upon  a 
high  sandy  ridge,  which  was  thought  to  be  too  poor  to 
raise  peas  on.  The  man  who  sold  it  to  them — their  old 
master  Potem  Desmit — no  doubt  thought  he  was  getting 
two  or  three  prices  for  it  ;  but  it  has  turned  out 
one  of  the  best  tobacco  farms  in  the  county.  It  is 
between  two  very  rich  sections,  and  in  a  country  having 
a  very  large  colored  population,  perhaps  the  largest  in 
the  county,  working  the  river  plantations  on  one  side  and 
the  creek  bottoms  on  the  other.  1  have  heard  that  Nim 
bus  takes  great  credit  to  himself  for  his  sagacity  in  fore 
seeing  the  capabilities  of  Red  Wing.  If  he  really  did 
detect  its  value  at  that  time,  it  shows  a  very  fine  judg 
ment  and  accounts  for  his  prosperity  since.  Eliab  Hill 
affirms  this  to  be  true,  but  most  people  think  he  does  the 
planning  for  the  whole  settlement.  Nimbus  has  done 
extremely  well,  however.  He  has  sold  off,  I  should  judge, 
nearly  half  his  land,  in  small  parcels,  has  worked  hard, 
and  had  excellent  crops.  I  should  not  wonder,  if  his 
present  crop  comes  off  well  and  the  market  holds  on,  if 
before  Christmas  he  were  worth  as  many  thousands  as  he 
had  hundreds  the  day  he  bought  that  piney  old-field. 
It  don't  take  much  tobacco  at  a  dollar  a  pound,  which 
his  last  crop  brought,  lugs  and  all,  to  make  a  man  that 
does  his  own  work  and  works  his  own  land  right  well 
off.  He's  had  good  luck,  has  worked  hard,  and  has  either 
managed  well  or  been  well  advised  ;  it  don't  matter 
which. 

' '  He  has  gathered  a  good  crowd  around  him  too,  sober, 
hard-working  men  ;  and  most  of  them  have  done  well 
too.  So  that  it  has  become  quite  a  flourishing  little  set 
tlement.  I  suppose  there  are  some  fifty  or  sixty  families 
live  there.  They  have  a  church,  which  they  use  for  a 
school-house,  and  it  is  by  a  great  deal  the  best  school- 


7°  B RICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

house  in  the  county  too.  Of  course  they  got  outside 
help,  some  from  the  Bureau,  I  reckon,  and  more  perhaps 
from  some  charitable  association.  I  should  think  the 
church  or  school-house  must  have  cost  fifteen  hundred 
or  two  thousand  dollars.  They  have  a  splendid  school 
Two  ladies  from  the  North  are  teaching  there — real 
ladies,  I  should  judge,  too." 

The  listener  smiled  at  this  indorsement. 

14  I  see,"  said  Le  Moyne,  "  it  amuses  you  that  I 
should  qualify  my  words  in  that  manner.  It  seems  un- 
neccessary  to  you." 

41  Entirely  so." 

14  Well,  it  may  be  ;  but  I  assure  you,  sir,  we  find  it  hard 
to  believe  that  any  one  who  will  come  down  here  and 
teach  niggers  is  of  very  much  account  at  home." 

'  They  are  generally  of  the  very  cream  of  our  North 
ern  life,"  said  the  other.  "  I  know  at  this  very  time  the 
daughters  of  several  prominent  clergymen,  of  two  college 
professors,  of  a  wealthy  merchant,  of  a  leading  manu 
facturer,  and  of  several  wealthy  farmers,  who  are  teach 
ing  in  these  schools.  It  is  missionary  work,  you  see — 
just  as  much  as  going  to  Siam  or  China.  I  have  never 
known  a  more  accomplished,  devoted,  or  thoroughly 
worthy  class  of  ladies,  and  do  not  doubt  that  these  you 
speak  of,  well  deserve  your  praise  without  qualification." 

44  Well,  it  may  be,"  said  the  other  dubiously  ;  4<  but  it 
is  hard  for  us  to  understand,  you  know.  Now,  they  live 
in  a  little  old  house,  which  they  have  fixed  up  with  flow 
ers  and  one  thing  and  another  till  it  is  very  attractive — 
on  the  outside,  at  least.  I  know  nothing  about  the 
inside  since  their  occupancy.  It  was  a  notable  place  in 
the  old  time,  but  had  quite  run  down  before  they  came. 
1  don't  suppose  they  see  a  white  person  once  a  month  to 
speak  to  them,  unless  indeed  some  of  the  officers  come 


A    BRUISED  REED.  71 

over  from  the  post  at  Boyleston,  now  and  then.  I  am 
sure  that  no  lady  would  think  of  visiting  them  or  admit 
ting  them  to  her  house.  I  know  a  few  gentlemen  who 
have  visited  the  school  just  out  of  curiosity.  Indeed,  I 
have  ridden  over  once  myself,  and  I  must  say  it  is  well 
worth  seeing.  I  should  say  there  were  three  or  four 
hundred  scholars,  of  all  ages,  sizes,  and  colors — black, 
brown,  white  apparently,  and  all  shades  of  what  we  used 
to  call  '  ginger-cake.'  These  two  ladies  and  the  man 
Eliab  teach  them.  It  is  perfectly  wonderful  how  they  do 
get  on.  You  ought  to  see  it." 

"  I  certainly  shall,"  said  Pardee,  "  as  a  special  duty 
calls  me  there.  How  would  it  do  for  a  polling-place  ?" 

11  There  ought  to  be  one  there,  but  I  should  be  afraid 
of  trouble,"  answered  Le  Moyne  seriously. 

"  Name  me  one  or  two  good  men  for  poll-holders,  and 
I  will  risk  any  disorder." 

"  Well,  there  is  Eliab.  He's  a  good  man  if  there 
ever  was  one,  and  capable  too." 

"  How  about  Nimbus  ?" 

"  He's  a  good  man  too,  honest  as  the  day  is  long,  hard- 
headed  and  determined,  but  he  can't  read  or  write." 

"  That  is  strange." 

"  It  is  strange,  but  one  of  the  teachers  was  telling  me 
so  when  I  was  there.  I  think  he  has  got  so  that  he  can 
sign  his  first  name — his  only  one,  he  insists — but  that  is 
all,  and  he  cannot  read  a  word." 

"  I  should  have  thought  he  would  have  been  one  of 
the  first  to  learn  that  much  at  least." 

"  So  should  I.  He  is  the  best  man  of  affairs  among 
them  all — has  good  judgment  and  sense,  and  is  always 
trying  to  do  something  to  get  on.  He  says  he  is  '  too 
busy  to  get  larnin',  an'  leaves  that  and  preachin'  to 
Bre'er'  'Liab. '  " 


7  2  BXICA'S  I VI THO  U  T  S  TKA  1 1 '. 

"  Do  they  keep  up  their  former  intimacy  ?" 

"Keep  it  up?  'Liab  lives  in  Nimbus'  lot,  has  his 
meals  from  his  table,  and  is  toted  about  by  Nimbus  just 
the  same  as  if  they  were  still  boys.  Nimbus  seems  to 
think  more  of  him  than  he  would  of  a  brother — than  he 
does  of  his  brothers,  for  he  has  two  whom  he  seems  to 
care  nothing  about.  His  wife  and  children  are  just  as  de 
voted  to  the  cripple  as  Nimbus,  and  'Liab,  on  his  part, 
seems  to  think  as  much  of  them  as  if  they  were  his  own. 
They  get  along  first-rate,  and  are  prospering  finely,  but  I 
am  afraid  they  will  have  trouble  yet." 

"Why  so?" 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  know  ;  they  are  niggers,  you  see, 
and  our  people  are  not  used  to  such  things." 

"  I  hope  your  apprehensions  are  groundless." 

"Well,  I  hope  so  too." 

The  officer  looked  at  his  watch  and  remarked  that  he 
must  return  to  his  duty,  and  after  thanking  his  compan 
ion  for  a  pleasant  hour,  and  being  invited  to  call  at  Mul 
berry  Hill  whenever  occasion  might  serve,  the  two  men 
parted,  each  with  pleasant  impressions  of  the  other. 


CHAPTER   X. 

AN     EXPRESS      TRUST. 

FORTUNATELY  for  Nimbus,  he  had  received  scarcely 
anything  of  his  pay  while  in  the  service,  and  none  of  the 
bounty-money  due  him,  until  some  months  after  the  sur 
render,  when  he  was  discharged  at  a  post  near  his  old 
home.  On  the  next  day  it  happened  that  there  was  a 
sale  of  some  of  the  transportation  at  this  post,  and 


AN  EXPRESS    TRUST.  '/3 

through  the  co-operation  of  one  of  his  officers  he  was  en 
abled  to  buy  a  good  mule  with  saddle  and  bridle  for  a 
song,  and  by  means  of  these  reached  home  on  the  day 
after.  He  was  so  proud  of  his  new  acquisition  that  he 
could  not  be  induced  to  remain  a  single  day  with  his 
former  comrades.  He  had  hardly  more  than  assured 
himself  of  the  safety  of  his  wife  and  children  before  he 
went  to  visit  his  old  friend  and  playmate,  Eliab  Hill. 
He  found  that  worthy  in  a  state  of  great  depression. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained  to  his  friend,  "  Mister  Le 
Moyne"  (with  a  slight  emphasis  on  the  title)  "  bery 
kindly  offered  me  de  use  ob  dis  cabin  's  long  as  I  might 
want  it,  and  has  furnished  me  with  nearly  all  I  have  had 
since  the  S'rrender.  While  my  mother  lived  and  he  had 
her  services  and  a  well-stocked  plantation  and  plenty  ob 
hands,  I  didn't  hab  no  fear  o'  being  a  burden  to  him. 
I  knew  he  would  get  good  pay  fer  my  support,  fer  I  did 
de  shoemakin'  fer  his  people,  and  made  a  good  many 
clo'es  fer  dem  too.  Thanks  to  Miss  Hester's  care,  I 
had  learned  to  use  my  needle,  as  you  know,  an'  could 
do  common  tailorin'  as  well  as  shoemakin'.  I  got  very 
little  fer  my  wuk  but  Confederate  money  and  provi 
sions,  which  my  mother  always  insisted  that  Mr.  Le 
Moyne  should  have  the  benefit  on,  as  he  had  given  me  my 
freedom  and  was  under  bond  for  my  support. 

"  Since  de  S'rrender,  t'ough  dere  is  plenty  ob  wuk 
nobody  has  any  money.  Mr.  Le  Moyne  is  just  as  bad 
off  as  anybody,  an'  has  to  go  in  debt  fer  his  supplies. 
His  slaves  was  freed,  his  wife  is  dead,  he  has  nobody 
to  wait  on  Miss  Hester,  only  as  he  hires  a  nuss  ;  his  little 
boy  is  to  take  keer  on,  an'  he  with  only  one  arm  an'  jest 
a  bare  plantation  with  scarcely  any  stock  left  to  him.  It 
comes  hard  fer  me  to  eat  his  bread  and  owe  him  so  much 
when  I  can't  do  nothin'  fer  him  in  return.  I  know  he 


74  BKJCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

don't  mind  it,  an'  b'lieve  he  would  feel  hurt  if  he  knew 
how  I  feel  about  it  ;  but  I  can't  help  it,  Nimbus — I  can't, 
no  way." 

"  Oh,  yer  mustn't  feel  that  'ere  way,  Bre'er  'Liab,  "said 
his  friend.  "  Co'se  it's  hard  fer  you  jes  now,  an'  may 
be  a  little  rough  on  Marse  Moyne.  But  yer  mus'  mem 
ber  dat  alter  a  little  our  folks  '11  hev  money.  White 
folks  got  ter  have  wuk  done  ;  nebber  do  it  theirselves  ; 
you  know  dat  ;  an'  ef  we  does  it  now  we's  boun'  ter  hev 
pay  fer  it.  An'  when  we  gits  money,  you  gits  wuk. 
Jes'  let  Marse  Moyne  wait  till  de  crap  comes  off,  an'  den 
yer'll  make  it  all  squar  wid  him.  I  tell  yer  what,  'Liab, 
it's  gwine  ter  be  great  times  fer  us  niggers,  now  we's 
free.  Yer  sees  dat  mule  out  dar  ?"  he  asked,  pointing 
to  a  sleek  bay  animal  which  he  had  tied  to  the  rack  in 
front  of  the  house  when  he  rode  up. 

"  Yes,  o'  course  1  do,"  said  the  other,  with  very  little 
interest  in  his  voice. 

"Likely  critter,  ain't  it?"  asked  Nimbus,  with  a 
peculiar  tone. 

"Certain.     Whose  is  it  ?" 

"  Wai,  now,  dat's  jes  edzackly  de  question  I  wuz 
gwine  ter  ax  of  you.  Whose  yer  spose  'tis  ?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.     One  o'  Mr.  Ware's  ?" 

"  I  should  tink  not,  honey  ;  not  edzackly  now.  Dat 
ar  mule  b'longs  ter  me — Nimbus  !  D'yer  h'yer  dat, 
'Liab?" 

"  No  !  Yer  don't  tell  me  ?  Bless  de  Lord,  Nimbus, 
yer's  a  fortunit  man.  Yer  fortin's  made,  Nimbus.  All 
yer's  got  ter  do  is  ter  wuk  fer  a  livin'  de  rest  of  this 
year,  an'  then  put  in  a  crap  of  terbacker  next  year,  an' 
keep  gwine  on  a  wukkin'  an'  savin',  an'  yer  fortin's 
made.  Ther  ain't  no  reason  why  yer  shouldn't  be  rich 


AN  EXPRESS    TRUST.  75 

afore  yer's  fifty.  Bless  the  Lord,  Nimbus,  I'se  that  glad 
for  you  dat  I  can't  find  no  words  fer  it." 

The  cripple  stretched  out  both  hands  to  his  stalwart 
friend,  and  the  tears  which  ran  down  his  cheeks  attested 
the  sincerity  of  his  words.  Nimbus  took  his  outstretched 
hands,  held  them  in  his  own  a  moment,  then  went  to  the 
door,  looked  carefully  about,  came  back  again,  and  with 
some  embarrassment  said, 

"  An'  dat  ain't  all,  Bre'er  'Liab.  Jes'  you  look 
dar." 

As  he  spoke  Nimbus  took  an  envelope  from  the  inside 
pocket  of  his  soldier  jacket  and  laid  it  on  the  bench 
where  the  other  sat.  'Liab  looked  up  in  surprise,  but  in 
obedience  to  a  gesture  from  Nimbus  opened  it  and 
counted  the  contents. 

"  Mos'  five  hundred  dollars!"  he  said  at  length,  in 
amazement.  "  Dis  yours  too,  Bre'er  Nimbus  ?" 

"  Co'se  it  is.  Didn't  I  tell  yer  dar  wuz  a  good  time 
comin'  ?" 

"  Bre'er  Nimbus,"  said  Eliab  solemnly,  "  you  gib  me 
your  word  you  git  all  dis  money  honestly  ?" 

"  Co'se  I  did.  Yer  don't  s'pose  Nimbus  am  a-gwine 
ter  turn  thief  at  dis  day,  does  yer  ?" 

"  How  you  get  it  ?"  asked  Eliab  sternly. 

"  How  I  git  it  ?"  answered  the  other  indignantly. 
"  You  see  dem  clo'es  ?  Hain't  I  been  a-sojerin'  nigh  onter 
two  year  now  ?  Hain't  I  hed  pay  an'  bounty,  an'  rations 
too?  One  time  I  wuz  cut  off  from  de  regiment,  an' 
'ported  missin'  nigh  bout  fo'  months  afo'  I  managed  ter 
git  over  ter  Port  R'yal  an1  'port  fer  duty,  an'  dey  gib 
me  money  fer  rations  all  dat  time.  Tell  yer,  'Liab,  it 
all  counts  up.  I'se  spent  a  heap  'sides  dat." 

Still  Eliab  looked  incredulous. 

"You  see  dat  ^Vcharge  ?"  said  Nimbus,  pulling  the 


76  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAIV. 

document  from  his  pocket.  "  You  jes  look  at  what  de 
paymaster  writ  on  dat,  ef  yer  don't  b'lieve  Nimbus  hez 
hed  any  luck.  'Sides  dat,  I'se  got  de  dockyments 
h'yer  ter  show  jes  whar  an'  how  I  got  dat  mule." 

The  care  which  had  been  exercised  by  his  officer  in 
providing  Nimbus  with  the  written  evidence  of  his  owner 
ship  of  the  mule  was  by  no  means  needless.  According 
to  the  common  law,  the  possession  of  personal  property 
is  prima  facie  evidence  of  its  ownership  ;  but  in  those 
early  days,  before  the  nation  undertook  to  spread  the 
aegis  of  equality  over  him,  such  was  not  the  rule  in  the 
case  of  the  freedman.  Those  first  legislatures,  elected 
only  by  the  high-minded  land-owners  of  the  South,  who 
knew  the  African,  his  needs  and  wants,  as  no  one  else 
could  know  them,  and  who  have  always  proclaimed  them 
selves  his  truest  friends,  enacted  with  especial  care  that 
he  should  not  "  hold  nor  own  nor  have  any  rights  of 
property  in  any  horse,  mule,  hog,  cow,  steer,  or  other 
stock,"  unless  the  same  was  attested  by  a  bill  of  sale 
or  other  instrument  of  writing  executed  by  the  former 
owner.  It  was  well  for  Nimbus  that  he  was  armed 
with  his  "  dockyments." 

Eliab  Hill  took  the  papers  handed  him  by  Nimbus,  and 
read,  slowly  and  with  evident  difficulty  ;  but  as  he  mas 
tered  line  after  line  the  look  of  incredulity  vanished,  and 
a  glow  of  solemn  joy  spread  over  his  face.  It  was  the 
first  positive  testimony  of  actual  freedom — the  first  fruits 
of  self-seeking,  self-helping  manhood  on  the  part  of  his 
race  which  had  come  into  the  secluded  country  region 
and  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  stricken  prophet  and  ad 
viser. 

With  a  sudden  jerk  he  threw  himself  off  his  low  bench, 
and  burying  his  head  upon  it  poured  forth  a  prayer  of 
gratitude  for  this  evidence  of  prayer  fulfilled.  His 


AN  EXPRESS   TRUST.  77 

was  full  of  tears,  and  when  he  said  "  Amen,"  and  Nim 
bus  rose  from  his  knees  and  put  forth  his  hand  to  help 
him  as  he  scrambled  upon  his  bench,  the  cripple  caught 
the  hand  and  pressed  it  close,  as  he  said  : 

11  Bress  God,  Nimbus,  I'se  seen  de  time  often  an' 
often  'nough  when  I'se  hed  ter  ax  de  Lor'  ter  keep  me 
from  a-envyin'  an'  grudgin'  de  white  folks  all  de  good  * 
chances  dey  hed  in  dis  world  ;  but  now  I'se  got  ter  fight 
agin'  covetin'  anudder  nigga's  luck.  Bress  de  Lor', 
Nimbus,  I'se  gladder,  I  do  b'lieve,  fer  what's  come  ter 
you  dan  yer  be  yerself.  It'll  do  you  a  power  of  good — 
you  an'  yours — but  what  good  wud  it  do  if  a  poor  crip 
pled  feller  like  me  hed  it?  Not  a  bit.  Jes'  git  him 
bread  an'  meat,  Nimbus,  dat's  all.  Oh,  de  Lord  knows 
what  he's  'bout,  Nimbus.  Mind  you  dat.  He  didn't 
give  you  all  dat  money  fer  nothing,  an'  yer'll  hev  ter 
'count  fer  it,  dat  you  will  ;  mighty  close  too,  'kase  he 
keeps  his  books  right.  Yer  must  see  ter  dat,  Bre'er 
Nimbus."  The  exhortation  was  earnestly  given,  and 
was  enforced  with  tears  and  soft  strokings  of  the  dark 
strong  hand  which  he  still  clasped  in  his  soft  and  slender 
ones, 

"  Now  don't  you  go  ter  sayin'  nuffiin'  o'  dat  kind,  ole 
feller.  I'se  been  a-tinkin'  ebber  sence  I  got  dat  money 
dat  it's  jes  ez  much  'Liab's  ez  'tis  mine.  Ef  it  hadn't  been 
fer  you  I'd  nebber  knowed  'nough  ter  go  ober  to  de 
Yanks,  when  ole  Mahs'r  send  me  down  ter  wuk  on  de 
fo'tifications,  an'  so  I  neber  git  it  at  all.  So  now,  yer 
see,  Bre'er  'Liab,  you' s  gwine  ter  keep  dat  'ere  money.  I 
don't  feel  half  safe  wid  it  nohow,  till  we  find  out  jes 
what  we  wants  ter  do  wid  it.  I  'lows  dat  we'd  better 
buy  a  plantation  somewheres.  Den  I  kin  wuk  it,  yer 
know,  an'  you  kin  hev  a  shop,  an'  so  we  kin  go  cahoots, 
an'  git  along  right  smart.  Yer  see,  ef  we  do  dat,  we  allers 


7  8  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

hez  a  HvirT,  anyhow,  an'  der  ain't  no  such  thing  ez 
spendin'  an1  losin'  what  we've  got." 

There  was  great  demurrer  on  the  part  of  the  afflicted 
friend,  but  he  finally  consented  to  become  his  old  crony's 
banker.  He  insisted,  however,  on  giving  him  a  very  formal 
and  peculiarly  worded  receipt  for  the  money  and  papers 
which  he  received  from  him.  Considering  that  they  had 
to  learn  the  very  rudiments  of  business,  Eliab  Hill  was 
altogether  right  in  insisting  upon  a  scrupulous  observance 
of  what  he  deemed  "  the  form  of  sound  words." 

In  speaking  of  the  son  of  his  former  owner  as  "  Mis 
ter,"  Eliab  Hill  meant  to  display  nothing  of  arrogance 
or  disrespect.  The  titles  '*  Master"  and  "Missus," 
were  the  badges  of  slavery  and  inferiority.  Against 
their  use  the  mind  of  the  freedman  rebelled  as  in 
stinctively  as  the  dominant  race  insisted  on  its  con 
tinuance.  The  "  Black  Codes"  of  1865,  the  only  legis 
lative  acts  of  the  South  since  the  war  which  were  not 
affected  in  any  way  by  national  power  or  Northern  senti 
ment,  made  it  incumbent  on  the  freedman,  whom  it 
sought  to  continue  in  serfdom,  to  use  this  form  of  ad 
dress,  and  denounced  its  neglect  as  disrespectful  to  the 
"Master"  or  "  Mistress."  When  these  laws  ceased  to 
be  operative,  the  custom  of  the  white  race  generally  was 
still  to  demand  the  observance  of  the  form,  and  this  de 
mand  tended  to  embitter  the  dislike  of  the  freedmen  for 
it.  At  first,  almost  the  entire  race  refused.  After  a  while 
the  habit  of  generations  began  to  assert  itself.  While  the 
more  intelligent  and  better  educated  of  the  original  stock 
discarded  its  use  entirely,  the  others,  and  the  children  who 
had  grown  up  since  emancipation,  came  to  use  it  almost 
interchangeably  with  the  ordinary  form  of  address.  Thus 
Eliab  Hill,  always  nervously  alive  to  the  fact  of  freedom, 
never  allowed  the  words  to  pass  his  lips  after  the  Surren- 


RED   WING.  79 

der,  except  when  talking  with  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  to  whose 
kindness  he  owed  so  much  in  early  years.  On  the  other 
hand,  Nimbus,  with  an  equal  aversion  to  everything  con 
nected  with  slavery,  but  without  the  same  mental  activity, 
sometimes  dropped  into  the  old  familiar  habit.  He 
would  have  died  rather  than  use  the  word  at  another's 
dictation  or  as  a  badge  of  inferiority,  but  the  habit  was  too 
strong  for  one  of  his  grade  of  intellect  to  break  away 
from  at  once.  Since  the  success  of  the  old  slaveholding 
element  of  the  South  in  subverting  the  governments  based 
on  the  equality  of  political  right  and  power,  this  form  of 
address  has  become  again  almost  universal  except  in  the 
cities  and  large  towns. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

RED    WING. 

SITUATED  on  the  sandy,  undulating  chain  of  low, 
wooded  hills  which  separated  the  waters  of  two  tributa 
ries  of  the  Roanoke,  at  the  point  where  the  "  big  road" 
from  the  West  crossed  the  country  road  which  ran  north 
ward  along  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  as  if  in  search  of  dry 
footing  between  the  rich  valleys  on  either  hand,  was  the 
place  known  as  Red  Wing.  The  "  big  road"  had  been 
a  thoroughfare  from  the  West  in  the  old  days  before 
steam  diverted  the  ways  of  traffic  from  the  trails  which 
the  wild  beasts  had  pursued.  It  led  through  the  moun 
tain  gaps,  by  devious  ways  but  by  easy  grades,  along  the 
banks  of  the  water-courses  and  across  the  shallowest  fords 
down  to  the  rich  lowlands  of  the  East.  It  was  said  that 
the  buffalo,  in  forgotten  ages,  had  marked  out  this  way 


So  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

to  the  ever-verdant  reed-pastures  of  the  then  unwooded 
East  ;  that  afterward  the  Indians  had  followed  his  lead, 
and,  as  the  season  served,  had  fished  upon  the  waters  of 
Currituck  or  hunted  amid  the  romantic  ruggednessof  the 
Blue  Appalachians.  It  was  known  that  the  earlier  set 
tlers  along  the  Smoky  Range  and  on  the  Piedmont  foot 
hills  had  used  this  thoroughfare  to  take  the  stock  and 
produce  of  their  farms  down  to  the  great  plantations  of 
the  East,  where  cotton  was  king,  and  to  the  turpentine 
orchards  of  the  South  Atlantic  shore  line. 

At  the  crossing  of  these  roads  was  situated  a  single 
house,  which  had  been  known  for  generations,  far  and 
near,  as  the  Red  Wing  Ordinary.  In  the  old  colonial 
days  it  had  no  doubt  been  a  house  of  entertainment  for 
man  and  beast.  Tradition,  very  well  based  and  univer 
sally  accepted,  declared  that  along  these  roads  had 
marched  and  countermarched  the  hostile  forces  of  the 
Revolutionary  period.  Greene  and  Cornwallis  had 
dragged  their  weary  columns  over  the  tenacious  clay  of 
this  region,  past  the  very  door  of  the  low-eaved  house, 
built  up  of  heavy  logs  at  first  and  covered  afterward  with 
fat-pine  siding,  which  had  itself  grown  brown  and  dark 
with  age.  It  was  said  that  the  British  regulars  had 
stacked  their  arms  around  the  trunk  of  the  monster  white- 
oak  that  stretched  its  great  arms  out  over  the  low  dark 
house,  which  seemed  to  be  creeping  nearer  and  nearer  to 
its  mighty  trunk  for  protection,  until  of  late  years  the 
spreading  branches  had  dropped  their  store  of  glossy 
acorns  and  embossed  cups  even  on  the  farther  slope  of  its 
mossy  roof,  a  good  twenty  yards  away  from  the  scarred 
and  rugged  bole.  "  Two  decks  and  a  passage" — two  mod 
erate-sized  rooms  with  a  wide  open  pass-way  between,  and 
a  low  dark  porch  running  along  the  front — constituted 
all  that  was  left  of  a  once  well-known  place  of  public  re- 


RED   WING.  8 1 

freshment.  At  each  end  a  stone  chimney,  yellowish 
gray  and  of  a  massiveness  now  wonderful  to  behold,  rose 
above  the  gable  like  a  shattered  tower  above  the  salient 
of  some  old  fortress.  The  windows  still  retained  the 
little  square  panes  and  curious  glazing  of  a  century  ago. 
Below  it,  fifty  yards  away  to  the  eastward,  a  bold  spring 
burst  out  of  the  granite  rock,  spread  deep  and  still  and 
cool  over  its  white  sandy  bottom,  in  the  stone-walled  inclo- 
sure  where  it  was  confined  (over  half  of  which  stood  the 
ample  milk-house),  and  then  gurgling  along  the  stony 
outlet  ran  away  over  the  ripple-marked  sands  of  its  worn 
channel,  to  join  the  waters  of  the  creek  a  mile  away. 

It  was  said  that  in  the  olden  time  there  had  been  sheds 
and  out-buildings,  and  perhaps  some  tributary  houses  for 
the  use  of  lodgers,  all  of  which  belonged  to  and  constituted 
a  part  of  the  Ordinary.  Two  things  had  deprived  it  of  its 
former  glory.  The  mart-way  had  changed  even  before 
the  iron  horse  charged  across  the  old  routes,  scorning 
their  pretty  curves  and  dashing  in  an  almost  direct  line 
from  mountain  to  sea.  Increasing  population  had 
opened  new  routes,  which  diverted  the  traffic  and  were 
preferred  to  the  old  way  by  travelers.  Besides  this, 
there  had  been  a  feud  between  the  owner  of  the  Ordinary 
and  the  rich  proprietor  whose  outspread  acres  encircled 
on  every  side  the  few  thin  roods  which  were  attached  to 
the  hostel,  and  when  the  owner  thereof  died  and  the 
property,  in  the  course  of  administration,  was  put  upon 
the  market,  the  rich  neighbor  bought  it,  despoiled  it  of 
all  its  accessories,  and  left  only  the  one  building  of  two 
rooms  below  and  two  above,  a  kitchen  and  a  log  stable, 
with  crib  attached,  upon  the  site  of  the  Ordinary  which 
had  vexed  him  so  long.  The  others  were  all  cleared 
away,  and  even  the  little  opening  around  the  Ordinary 
was  turned  out  to  grow  up  in  pines  and  black-jacks,  all 


82  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

but  an  acre  or  two  of  garden-plot  behind  the  house. 
The  sign  was  removed,  and  the  overseer  of  Colonel  Wal 
ter  Greer,  the  new  owner,  was  installed  in  the  house, 
which  thenceforth  lost  entirely  its  character  as  an  inn. 

In  the  old  days,  before  the  use  of  artificial  heat  in  the 
curing  of  tobacco,  the  heavy,  coarse  fibre  which  grew  upon 
rich,  loamy  bottom  lands  or  on  dark  clayey  hillsides  was 
chiefly  prized  by  the  grower  and  purchaser  of  that  staple. 
The  light  sandy  uplands,  thin  and  gray,  bearing  only 
stunted  pines  or  a  light  growth  of  chestnut  and  cluster 
ing  chinquapins,  interspersed  with  sour-wood,  while  here 
and  there  a  dogwood  or  a  white-coated,  white-hearted 
hickory  grew,  stubborn  and  lone,  were  not  at  all  valued 
as  tobacco  lands.  The  light  silky  variety  of  that  staple 
was  entirely  unknown,  and  even  after  its  discovery 
was  for  a  longtime  unprized,  and  its  habitat  and  peculiar 
characteristics  little  understood.  It  is  only  since  the  war 
of  Rebellion  that  its  excellence  has  been  fully  appre 
ciated  and  its  superiority  established.  The  timber  on 
this  land  was  of  no  value  except  as  wood  and  for  house- 
logs.  Of  the  standard  timber  tree  of  the  region,  the 
oak,  there  was  barely  enough  to  fence  it,  should  that  ever 
be  thought  desirable.  Corn,  the  great  staple  of  the  region 
next  to  tobacco,  could  hardly  be  "  hired"  to  grow  upon 
the  "  droughty"  soil  of  the  ridge,  and  its  yield  of  the 
smaller  grains,  though  much  better,  was  not  sufficient  to 
tempt  the  owner  of  the  rich  lands  adjacent  to  undertake 
its  cultivation.  This  land  itself,  he  thought,  was  only 
good  "to  hold  the  world  together"  or  make  a  "wet- 
weather  road"  between  the  rich  tracts  on  either  hand. 
Indeed,  it  was  a  common  saying  in  that  region  that  it 
was  "  too  poor  even  to  raise  a  disturbance  upon." 

To  the  westward  of  the  road  running  north  and  south 
there  had  once  been  an  open  field  of  some  thirty  or  forty 


RED   WING.  83 

acres,  where  the  wagoners  were  wont  to  camp  and  the 
drovers  to  picket  their  stock  in  the  halcyon  days  of  the 
old  hostelry.  It  had  been  the  muster-ground  of  the 
militia  too,  and  there  were  men  yet  alive,  at  the  time  of 
which  we  write,  whose  fathers  had  mustered  with  the 
county  forces  on  that  ground.  When  it  was  ' '  turned  out, ' ' 
however,  and  the  Ordinary  ceased  to  be  a  place  of  enter 
tainment,  the  pines  shot  up,  almost  as  thick  as  grass- 
blades  in  a  meadow,  over  its  whole  expanse.  It  is 
strange  how  they  came  there.  Only  black-jacks  and  the 
lighter  decidua  which  cover  such  sandy  ridges  had  grown 
there  before,  but  after  these  were  cleared  away  by  the 
hand  of  man  and  the  plow  for  a  few  years  had  tickled  the 
thin  soil,  when  nature  again  resumed  her  sway,  she  sent 
a  countless  army  of  evergreens,  of  mysterious  origin,  to 
take  and  hold  this  desecrated  portion  of  her  domain. 
They  sprang  up  between  the  corn-rows  before  the  stalks 
had  disappeared  from  sight ;  they  shot  through  the  charred 
embers  of  the  deserted  camp-fire  ;  everywhere,  under  the 
shade  of  each  deciduous  bush,  protected  by  the  shadow 
of  the  rank  weeds  which  sprang  up  where  the  stock  had 
fed,  the  young  pines  grew,  and  protected  others,  and 
shot  slimly  up,  until  their  dense  growth  shut  out  the 
sunlight  and  choked  the  lately  protecting  shrubbery. 
Then  they  grew  larger,  and  the  weaker  ones  were 
overtopped  by  the  stronger  and  shut  out  from  the 
sunlight  and  starved  to  death,  and  their  mouldering 
fragments  mingled  with  the  carpet  of  cones  and 
needles  which  became  thicker  and  thicker  under  their 
shade,  until  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  a  solid,  dark 
mass  of  pines  fit  for  house-logs,  and  many  even  larger, 
stood  upon  the  old  muster-field,  and  constituted  the  chief 
value  of  the  tract  of  two  hundred  acres  which  lay  along 
the  west  side  of  the  plantation  of  which  it  formed  a  part. 


84  BXICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

It  was  this  tract  that  Nimbus  selected  as  the  most 
advantageous  location  for  himself  and  his  friend  which  he 
could  find  in  that  region.  He  rightly  judged  that  the 
general  estimate  of  its  poverty  would  incline  the  owner 
to  part  with  a  considerable  tract  at  a  very  moderate 
price,  especially  if  he  were  in  need  of  ready  money,  as 
Colonel  Desmit  was  then  reputed  to  be,  on  account  of  the 
losses  he  had  sustained  by  the  results  of  the  war.  His 
own  idea  of  its  value  differed  materially  from  this,  and  he 
was  thoroughly  convinced  that,  in  the  near  future,  it  would 
be  justified.  He  was  cautious  about  stating  the  grounds 
of  this  belief  even  to  Eliab,  having  the  natural  fear  of 
one  unaccustomed  to  business  that  some  other  person 
would  get  wind  of  his  idea  and  step  into  his  Bethesda 
while  he,  himself,  waited  for  the  troubling  of  the  waters. 

He  felt  himself  quite  incompetent  to  conduct  the  pur 
chase,  even  with  Eliab's  assistance,  and  in  casting  about 
for  some  white  man  whom  they  could  trust  to  act  as  their 
agent,  they  could  think  of  no  one  but  Hesden  Le  Moyne. 
It  was  agreed,  therefore,  that  Eliab  should  broach  the 
matter  to  him,  but  he  was  expressly  cautioned  by  Nim 
bus  to  give  him  no  hint  of  the  particular  reasons  which 
led  them  to  prefer  this  particular  tract  or  of  their  means  of 
payment,  until  he  had  thoroughly  sounded  him  in  regard 
to  the  plan  itself.  This  Eliab  did,  and  that  gentleman, 
while  approving  the  plan  of  buying  a  plantation,  if  they 
were  able,  utterly  condemned  the  idea  of  purchasing  a  tract 
so  notoriously  worthless,  and  refused  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  so  wild  a  scheme.  Eliab,  greatly  discouraged,  re 
ported  this  fact  to  his  friend  and  urged  the  abandonment 
of  the  plan.  Nimbus,  however,  was  stubborn  and  declared 
that  "  if  Marse  Hesden  would  not  act  for  him  he  would 
go  to  Louisburg  and  buy  it  of  Marse  Desmit  himself." 

"  Dar  ain't  no  use  o'  talkin',  'Liab, "  said  he.     "You 


RED   WING.  85 

an'  Marse  Hesden  knows  a  heap  more'n  I  does  'bout 
most  things  ;  dar  ain't  no  doubt  'bout  dat  'an  nobody 
knows  it  better'n  I  does.  But  what  Nimbus  knows,  he 
knows,  an'  dat's  de  eend  on't.  Nobody  don't  know  it 
any  better.  Now,  I  don't  know  nuffin'  'bout  books  an' 
de  scripter  an'  sech-like,  only  what  I  gits  second-hand — 
no  more'n  you  does  'bout  sojerin',  fer  instance.  But  I  tell 
ye  what,  'Liab,  1  does  know  'bout  terbacker,  an'  I 
knows  all  about  it,  too.  I  kin  jes'  gib  you  an'  Marse 
Hesden,  an'  aheap  mo'  jes  like  you  uns,  odds  on  dat,  an' 
beat  ye  all  holler  ebbery  time.  What  I  don't  know  'bout 
dat  ar'  crap  dar  ain't  no  sort  ob  use  a  tryin'  to  tell  me. 
I  got  what  I  knows  de  reg'lar  ole-fashioned  way,  like 
small-pox,  jes  by  'sposure,  an'  I  tell  yer  'Liab,  hit  beats 
any  sort  ob  'noculation  all  ter  rags.  Now,  I  tell  you, 
'Liab  Hill,  dat  ar'  trac'  ob  Ian'  'bout  dat  ole  Or'nery  is 
jes'  de  berry  place  we  wants,  an'  I'm  boun'  ter  hev  it,  ef 
it  takes  a  leg.  Now  you  heah  dat,  don't  yer?" 

Eliab  saw  that  it  was  useless  for  him  to  combat  this 
determination.  He  knew  the  ruggedness  of  his  friend's 
character  and  had  long  ago  learned  that  he  could  only  be 
turned  from  a  course,  once  fixed  upon  in  his  own  mind, 
by  presenting  some  view  of  the  matter  which  had  not 
occurred  to  him  before.  He  had  great  confidence  in  Mr. 
Le  Moyne's  judgment — almost  as  much  as  in  Nimbus', 
despite  his  admiration  for  his  herculean  comrade — so  he 
induced  his  friend  to  promise  that  nothing  more  should 
be  done  about  the  matter  until  he  could  have  an  oppor 
tunity  to  examine  the  premises,  with  which  he  was  not  as 
familiar  as  he  would  like  to  be,  before  it  was  altogether 
decided.  To  this  Nimbus  readily  consented,  and  soon 
afterwards  he  borrowed  a  wagon  and  took  Eliab,  one 
pleasant  day  in  the  early  fall,  to  spy  out  their  new  Canaan. 
When  they  had  driven  around  and  seen  as  much  of  it 


8 6  BKICA'S  IV I TIIO I '  T  .V  TA'A  IV. 

as  they  could  well  examine  from  the  vehicle,  Nimbus 
drove  to  a  point  on  the  east-and-west  road  just  opposite 
the  western  part  of  the  pine  growth,  where  a  sandy  hill 
sloped  gradually  to  the  northward  and  a  little  spring 
burst  out  of  it  and  trickled  across  the  road. 

"  Dar, "  he  said,  waving  his  hand  toward  the  slope  ; 
"  dar  is  whar  I  wants  my  house,  right  Alongside  ob 
dat  ar  spring,  wid  a  good  terbacker  barn  up  on  de  hill 
dar." 

"Why,  what  do  yer  want  ter  lib  dar  fer  ?"  asked 
the  other  in  surprise,  as  he  peered  over  the  side  of  the 
wagon,  in  which  he  sat  upon  a  thick  bed  of  fodder  which 
Nimbus  had  spread  over  the  bottom  for  his  comfort. 

"  Kase  dat  ar  side-hill  am  twenty-five  acres  ob  de  best 
terbacker  groun'  in  Ho'sford  County." 

"  Yer  don't  say  so,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  Dat's  jes  what  I  do  say,'Liab,  an'  dat's  de  main  rea 
son  what's  made  me  so  stubborn  'bout  buyin1  dis  berry 
track  of  Ian'.  Pears  ter  me  it's  jes  made  fer  us.  It's  all 
good  terbacker  Ian',  most  on't  de  berry  best.  It's  easy 
clar'd  off  an'  easy  wukked.  De  'backer  growed  on  dis  yer 
Ian'  an'  cured  wid  coal  made  outen  dem  ar  pines  will  be 
jes  es  yaller  ez  gold  an'  as  fine  ez  silk,  'Liab.  I  knows  ; 
I'se  been  a  watchin'  right  smart,  an'  long  ago,  when  I  used 
ter  pass  by  here,  when  dey  fust  begun  ter  vally  de  yaller 
terbacker,  I  used  ter  wonder  dat  some  pore  white  man 
like  Marse  War',  dat  knowed  how  ter  raise  an'  cure  ter 
backer,  didn't  buy  de  ole  place  an'  wuk  for  demselves, 
'stead  ob  overseein'  fer  somebody  else.  It's  quar  dey 
nebber  t'ought  on't.  It  allers  seemed  ter  me  dat  I 
wouldn't  ax  fer  nothin'  better.  "^ 

"  But  what  yer  gwine  ter  do  wid  de  ole  house  ?"  asked 
Eliab. 

"  Wai,  Bre'er  Liab,"  said  Nimbus  with  a  queer  grim- 


RED   WING.  87 

ace,  "  I  kinder  'llowed  dat  I'd  let  you  hab  dat  ar  ter 
do  wid  jes  'bout  ez  yer  like." 

"  Oh,  Bre'er  Nimbus,  yer  don't  mean  dat  now  ?" 

"  Don't  1  ?  wal,  you  jes  see  ef  I  don't.  I'segwine  ter 
lib  right  h'yer,  an'  ef  yer  don't  occupy  dat  ole  Red  Wing 
Or'nery  I'm  durned  ef  it  don't  rot  down.  Yer  heah 
dat  man  ?  Dar  don't  nobody  else  lib  in  it,  shuah." 

Eliab  was  very  thoughtful  and  silent,  listening  to  Nim 
bus'  comments  and  plans  until  finally,  as  they  sat  on  the 
porch  of  the  old  house  eating  their  "  snack,"  he  said, 

"  Nimbus,  dar's  a  heap  ob  cullud  folks  libbin'  jes 
one  way  an'  anudder  from  dis  yer  E.ed  Wing  cross-roads. ' ' 

"  Co'se  dey  is,  an'  dat's  de  berry  reason  I'se  sot  my 
heart  on  yer  habbin'  a  shop  right  h'yer.  Yer  shore  ter 
git  de  wuk  cb  de  whole  country  roun',  an'  der's  mo' 
cullud  folks  right  up  an'  down  de  creek  an'  de  ribber 
h'yer  dan  ennywhar  hereabouts  dat  I  knows  on." 

"  But,  Nimbus — "  said  he,  hesitatingly. 

"  Yis,  'Liab,  I  hears  ye." 

"  Couldn't  we  hab  a  church  here  ?" 

"  Now  yer's  talking  exclaimed  Nimbus.  "  Swar  ter 
God,  it's  quare  I  nebber  tink  ob  dat,  now.  An'  you  de 
minister  ?  Now  yer  is  talkin',  shuah  !  Why  de  debble 
I  nebber  tink  ob  dat  afo'  ?  Yer  see  dem  big  pines  dar, 
straight  ez  a  arrer  an'  nigh  'bout  de  same  size  from  top 
ter  bottom  ?  What  yer  s'pose  dem  fer,  'Liab  ?  Dunno  ? 
I  should  tink  not.  House  logs  fer  de  church,  'Liab. 
Make  it  jes  ez  big  ez  yer  wants.  Dar  'tis.  Only  gib  me 
some  few  shingles  an'  a  flo',  an'  dar  yer  hev  jes  ez  good 
a  church  ez  de  'postles  ebber  bed  ter  preach  in." 

"  An'  de  school,  Nimbus  ?"   timidly. 

"  Shuah  'nough.  Why  I  nebber  tink  ob  dat  afo'  ?  An' 
you  de  teacher  !  Now  you  is  talkin',  'Liab,  certain 
shuah  !  Dat's  jes  dc  ting,  jes  what  we  wants  an'  bez  got 


88  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

ter  hev.  Plenty  o'  scholars  h'yer-abouts,  an'  de  church 
fer  a  school-house  an'  Bre'er  'Liab  fer  de  teacher  !  'Clar 
fer  it,  Bre'er 'Liab,  you  hcz  gut  ahead-piece,  dat'safac'. 
Now  I  nebber  tink  of  all  dat  togedder.  Mout  hev  come 
bimeby,  little  to  a  time,  but  not  all  to  wonst  like,  as  'tis 
\vid  you.  Lord,  how  plain  I  sees  it  all  now  !  De  church 
an'  school-house  up  dar  on  de  knoll  ;  Nimbus'  house  jes 
about  a  hundred  yards  furder  on,  'cross  de  road  ;  an'  on 
de  side  ob  de  hill  de  'backer-barn  ;  you  a  teachin'  an' 
a  preachin'  an'  Nimbus  makin'  terbacker,  an'  Gena  a- 
takin'  comfort  on  de  porch,  an'  de  young  uns  gittin' 
larnin'  !  Wh-o-o-p  !  Bre'er  'Liab,  yer's  a  great  man, 
shuah  !" 

Nimbus  caught  him  in  his  strong  arms  and  whirled 
him  about  in  a  frenzy  of  joy.  When  he  sat  him  down 
Eliab  said  quietly  : 

"  We  must  get  somebody  else  to  teach  for  a  while. 
'Liab  don't  know  'nough  ter  do  dat  ar.  I'll  go  to  school 
wid  de  chillen  an'  learn  'nough  ter  do  it  bimeby.  P'raps 
dis  what  dey  call  de  '  Bureau  '  mout  start  a  school  here 
ef  you  should  ax  'em,  Nimbus.  Yer  know  dey'd  be 
mighty  willin'  ter  'blige  a  soldier,  who'd  been  a  fightin' 
fer  'em,  ez  you  hev." 

"  I  don't  a  know  about  dat  ar,  Bre'er 'Liab,  butleasta- 
ways  we  can't  do  no  more'n  make  de  trial,  anyhow." 

After  this  visit,  Eliab  withdrew  all  opposition,  not 
without  doubt,  but  hoping  for  the  best,  and  trusting, 
prayerfully,  that  his  friend's  sanguine  expectations  might 
be  justified  by  the  result.  So  it  was  determined  that 
Nimbus  should  make  the  purchase,  it  possible,  and  that 
the  old  Ordinary,  which  had  been  abandoned  as  a  hostel 
on  the  highway  to  the  Eastern  market,  be  made  a  New 
Inn  upon  the  road  which  the  Freedman  must  now  take, 
and  which  should  lead  to  liberty  and  light. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ON    THE    WAY    TO    JERICHO. 

COLONEL  DESMIT'S  devotion  to  the  idea  that  slave 
property  was  more  profitable  than  any  other,  and  the  sys 
tem  by  which  he  had  counted  on  almost  limitless  gain 
thereby,  was  not  only  overthrown  by  the  universal  eman 
cipation  which  attended  the  issue  of  the  war,  but  certain 
unlooked-for  contingencies  placed  him  upon  the  very 
verge  of  bankruptcy.  The  location  of  his  interests  in 
different  places,  which  he  had  been  accustomed,  during 
the  struggle,  to  look  upon  as  a  most  fortunate  prevision, 
resulted  most  disastrously.  As  the  war  progressed,  it  came 
about  that  those  regions  which  were  at  first  generally 
regarded  as  the  most  secure  from  hostile  invasion  became 
the  scene  of  the  most  devastating  operations. 

The  military  foresight  of  the  Confederate  leaders  long 
before  led  them  to  believe  that  the  struggle  would  be 
concluded,  or  would  at  least  reach  its  climax,  in  the  Pied 
mont  region.  From  the  coast  to  the  mountains  the  Con 
federacy  spanned,  at  this  point,  only  two  hundred  miles. 
The  country  was  open,  accessible  from  three  points  upon 
the  coast,  at  which  lodgment  was  early  made  or  might  have 
been  obtained,  and  only  one  flank  of  the  forces  march 
ing  thence  toward  the  heart  of  the  Confederacy  could  be 
assailed.  It  was  early  apprehended  by  them  that  armies 
marching  from  the  coast  of  North  Carolina,  one  column 
along  the  course  of  the  Cape  Fear  and  another  from 
Newberne,  within  fair  supporting  distance  and  converging 
toward  the  center  of  the  State,  would  constitute  the  most 
dangerous  movement  that  could  be  made  against  the  Con 
federacy,  since  it  would  cut  it  in  twain  if  successful  ;  and, 

89 


90  BXJCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

in  order  to  defeat  it,  the  Army  of  Virginia  would  have  to 
be  withdrawn  from  its  field  of  operations  and  a  force 
advancing  in  its  track  from  the  James  would  be  enabled 
to  co-operate  with  the  columns  previously  mentioned. 
It  is  instructive  to  note  that,  upon  the  other  side,  the  un 
trained  instinct  of  President  Lincoln  was  always  turning 
in  the  same  direction.  In  perusing  the  field  of  opera 
tions  his  finger  would  always  stray  to  the  eastern  coast 
of  North  Carolina  as  the  vital  point,  and  no  persuasions 
could  induce  him  to  give  up  the  apparently  useless  foot 
hold  which  we  kept  there  for  more  than  three  years  with 
out  material  advantage.  It  was  a  matter  of  constant 
surprise  to  the  Confederate  military  authorities  that  this 
course  was  not  adopted,  and  the  final  result  showed  the 
wisdom  of  their  premonition. 

Among  others,  Colonel  Desmit  had  obtained  an  inkling 
of  this  idea,  and  instead  of  concentrating  all  his  destructi 
ble  property  in  the  region  of  his  home,  where,  as  it  re 
sulted,  it  would  have  been  comparatively  secure,  he 
pitched  upon  the  "  piney-woods"  region  to  the  south 
eastward,  as  the  place  of  greatest  safety. 

He  had  rightly  estimated  that  cotton  and  naval  stores 
would,  on  account  of  the  rigorous  blockade  and  their 
limited  production  in  other  countries,  be  the  most  valu 
able  products  to  hold  when  the  period  of  war  should  end. 
With  these  ideas  he  had  invested  largely  in  both,  and  in 
and  about  a  great  factory  at  the  falls  of  a  chief  tributary 
of  the  Pedee,  he  had  stored  his  cotton  ;  and  in  the  heart 
o'f  that  sombre-shadowed  stretch  of  soughing  pines  which 
lies  between  the  Cape  Fear  and  the  Yadkin  he  had  hidden 
his  vast  accumulation  of  pitch,  turpentine,  and  resin. 
Roth  were  in  the  very  track  of  Sherman's  ruthless 
legions.  First  the  factory  and  the  thousands  of  bales 
carefully  placed  in  store  near  by  were  given  to  the 


ON    THE   WA  Y    TO   JERICHO.  91 

flames.  Potestatem  Desmit  had  heard  of  their  danger, 
and  had  ridden  post-haste  across  the  rugged  region  to  the 
northward  in  the  vain  hope  that  his  presence  might  some 
how  avert  disaster.  From  the  top  of  a  rocky  mountain 
twenty  miles  away  he  had  witnessed  the  conflagration, 
and  needed  not  to  be  told  of  his  loss.  Turning  his  horse's 
head  to  the  eastward,  at  a  country-crossing  near  at  hand, 
he  struck  out  with  unabated  resolution  to  reach  the  depot 
of  his  naval  stores  before  the  arrival  of  the  troops,  in 
order  that  he  might  interpose  for  their  preservation.  He 
had  quite  determined  to  risk  the  consequences  of  capture 
in  their  behalf,  being  now  fully  convinced  of  the  down 
fall  of  the  Confederacy. 

During  the  ensuing  night  he  arrived  at  his  destination, 
where  he  found  everything  in  confusion  and  affright.  It 
was  a  vast  collection  of  most  valuable  stores.  For  two 
years  they  had  been  accumulating.  It  was  one  of  the 
sheet-anchors  which  the  prudent  and  far-seeing  Potesta 
tem  Desmit  had  thrown  out  to  windward  in  anticipation 
of  a  coming  storm.  For  half  a  mile  along  the  bank  of 
the  little  stream  which  was  just  wide  enough  to  float  a 
loaded  batteau,  the  barrels  of  resin  and  pitch  and  tur 
pentine  were  piled,  tier  upon  tier,  hundreds  and  thou 
sands  upon  thousands  of  them.  Potestatem  Desmit 
looked  at  them  and  shuddered  at  the  desolation  which  a 
single  torch  would  produce  in  an  instant.  He  felt  that 
the  chances  were  desperate,  and  he  had  half  a  mind  to 
apply  the  torch  himself  and  at  least  deprive  the  approach 
ing  horde  of  the  savage  pleasure  of  destroying  his  sub 
stance.  But  he  had  great  confidence  in  himself,  his  own 
powers  of  persuasion  and  diplomacy.  He  would  try 
them  once  more,  and  would  not  fail  to  make  them 
serve  for  all  they  might  be  worth,  to  save  this  hoarded 
treasure. 


92  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

It  was  barely  daylight  the  next  morning  when  he  was 
awakened  by  the  cry,  "  The  Yanks  are  coming  !"  He 
had  but  a  moment  to  question  the  frightened  messenger, 
who  pressed  on,  terror-stricken,  in  the  very  road  which  he 
might  have  known  would  be  the  path  of  the  advancing 
enemy,  instead  of  riding  two  miles  into  the  heart  of  the 
boundless  pine  forest  which  stretched  on  either  hand, 
where  he  would  have  been  as  safe  from  capture  as  if  he 
had  been  in  the  center  of  the  pyramid  of  Cheops. 

Potestatem  Desmit  had  his  carriage  geared  up,  and 
went  coolly  forth  to  meet  the  invaders.  He  had  heard 
much  of  their  savage  ferocity,  and  was  by  no  means  igno 
rant  of  the  danger  which  he  ran  in  thus  going  voluntarily 
into  their  clutches.  Nevertheless  he  did  not  falter.  He 
had  great  reliance  in  his  personal  presence.  So  he 
dressed  with  care,  and  arrayed  in  clean  linen  and  a  suit 
of  the  finest  broadcloth,  then  exceedingly  rare  in  the 
Confederacy,  and  with  his  snowy  hair  and  beard,  his 
high  hat,  his  hands  crossed  over  a  gold-headed  cane,  and 
gold-mounted  glasses  upon  his  nose,  he  set  out  upon  his 
mission.  The  night  before  he  had  prudently  removed 
from  the  place  every  drop  of  spirits  except  a  small  demi 
john  of  old  peach-brandy,  which  he  put  under  the  seat  of 
his  carriage,  intending  therewith  to  regale  the  highest 
official  whom  he  should  succeed  in  approaching,  even 
though  it  should  be  the  dreaded  Sherman  himself. 

He  had  proceeded  perhaps  half  a  mile,  when  his  car 
riage  was  all  at  once  surrounded  by  a  motley  crew  of 
curiously  dressed  but  well-arme  druffians,  whose  very  ap 
pearance  disgusted  and  alarmed  him.  With  oaths  and 
threats  the  lumbering  chariot,  which  represented  in  itself 
no  little  of  respectability,  was  stopped.  The  appearance 
of  such  a  vehicle  upon  the  sandy  road  of  the  pine  woods 
coming  directly  toward  the  advancing  column  struck  the 


ON    THE   WAY    TO    JERICHO.  93 

"bummers"  with  surprise.  They  made  a  thousand  in 
quiries  of  the  frightened  driver,  and  were  about  to  remove 
and  appropriate  the  sleek  span  of  carriage-horses  when  the 
occupant  of  the  carriage,  opening  the  window,  thrust 
out  his  head,  and  with  a  face  flaming  with  indignation 
ordered  them  to  desist,  bestowing  upon  them  a  volley  of 
epithets,  beginning  with  "  rascals"  and  running  as  far 
into  the  language  of  abuse  as  his  somewhat  heated  imagi 
nation  could  carry  him. 

"  Hello,  Bill,"  said  the  bummer  who  was  unfastening 
the  right-wheeler,  as  he  looked  back  and  saw  the  red  face 
framed  in  a  circlet  of  white  hair  and  beard.  '  Just  look 
at  this  old  sunflower,  will  you  ?  I  guess  the  old  bird  must 
think  he  commands  this  brigade.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  I  say, 
old  fellow,  when  did  you  leave  the  ark  ?" 

"  And  was  Noah  and  his  family  well  when  you  bid 
'em  good-by  ?"  queried  another. 

This  levity  and  ridicule  were  too  much  for  Colonel 
P.  Desmit  to  endure.  He  leaned  out  of  the  carriage  win 
dow,  and  shaking  his  gold-headed  cane  at  the  mirthful 
marauders  denounced  them  in  language  fearful  in  its  im 
potent  wrath. 

"  Take  me  to  General  Sherman,  you  rascals  !  I  want 
to  see  the  general  !"  he  yelled  over  and  over  again. 

"  The  hell  you  do  !  Well,  now,  mister,  don't  you 
know  that  the  General  is  too  nervous  to  see  company  to 
day  ?  He's  just  sent  us  on  ahead  a  bit  to  say  to  strangers 
that  he's  compelled  to  refuse  all  visitors  to-day.  He  gits 
that  way  sometimes,  does  'Old  Bill/  so  ye  mustn't 
think  hard  of  him,  at  all." 

"Take  me  to  the  general,  you  plundering  pirates  !" 
vociferated  the  enraged  Colonel.  "  I'll  see  if  a  country 
gentleman  travelling  in  his  own  carriage  along  the  high 
way  is  to  be  robbed  and  abused  in  this  manner  !" 


94  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Robbed,  did  he  say  ?"  queried  one,  with  the  unmis 
takable  brogue  of  an  Irishman.  "  Faith,  it  must  be 
the  gintleman  has  somethin'  very  important  along  wid 
him  in  the  carriage,  that  he's  gittin'  so  excited  about ; 
and  its  meself  that'll  not  see  the  gintleman  imposed  upon, 
sure."  This  with  a  wink  at  his  comrades.  Then  to  the 
occupant  of  the  carriage:  "What  did  yer  honor  say 
might  be  yer  name,  now?  It's  very  partickler  the  Gen 
eral  is  about  insthructin'  us  ter  ax  the  names  of  thim 
that's  wantin'  an'  introduction  to  him,  ye  know  ?" 

The  solemnity  of  this  address  half  deceived  the  irate 
Southron,  and  he  answered  with  dignity,  "  Desmit — 
Colonel  Potestatem  Desmit,  of  Horsford  County,  sir." 

"  Ah,  d'ye  hear  that,  b'ys  ?  Faith,  it's  a  kurnel  it  is 
ye've  been  a  shtoppin'  here  upon  the  highway  !  Shure 
it  may  be  he's  a  goin'  to  the  Gineral  wid  a  flag  of  thruce, 
belike." 

"  I  do  wish  to  treat  with  the  General,"  said  Desmit, 
thinking  he  saw  a  chance  to  put  in  a  favorable  word. 

"  An'  d'ye  hear  that,  b'ys  ?  Shure  the  gintleman 
wants  to  thrate  the  Gineral.  Faith  it'll  be  right  glad  the 
auld  b'y'll  be  of  adhrap  of  somethin'  good  down  here  in 
the  pine  woods." 

"  Can  I  see  the  General,  gentlemen  ?"  asked  Desmit, 
with  a  growing  feeling  that  he  had  taken  the  wrong 
course  to  accomplish  his  end.  The  crowd  of  ' '  bummers  ' ' 
constantly  grew  larger.  They  were  mounted  upon  horses 
and  mules,  jacks  and  jennets,  and  one  of  them  had  put 
a  "  McClellan  saddle"  and  a  gag-bit  upon  one  the  black 
polled  cattle  which  abound  in  that  region,  and  which 
ambled  easily  and  briskly  along  with  his  rider's  feet  just 
brushing  the  low  "  poverty-pines"  which  grew  by  the 
roadside.  They  wore  all  sorts  of  clothing.  The  blue 
and  the  gray  were  already  peacefully  intermixed  in  the 


ON   THE   WAY    TO   JERICHO.  95 

garments  of  most  of  them.  The  most  grotesque  variety 
prevailed  especially  in  their  head-gear,  which  culminated 
in  the  case  of  one  who  wore  a  long,  barrel-shaped,  slatted 
sun-bonnet  made  out  of  spotted  calico.  They  were 
boisterous  and  even  amusing,  had  they  not  been  well 
armed  and  apparently  without  fear  or  reverence  for  any 
authority  or  individual.  For  the  present,  the  Irishman 
was  evidently  in  command,  by  virtue  of  his  witty  tongue. 

"  Can  ye  see  the  Gineral,  Kurnel  ?"  said  he,  with  the 
utmost  apparent  deference  ;  "  av  coorse  ye  can,  sir,  only 
it'll  be  necessary  for  you  to  lave  your  carriage  an'  the 
horses  and  the  nagur  here  in  the  care  of  these  gintlemen, 
while  I  takes  ye  to  the  Gineral  mesilf. " 

"  Why  can  I  not  drive  on  ?" 

"  Why  can't  ye  dhrive  ?  Is  it  a  Kurnel  ye  is,  an'  don't 
know  that  ?  Shure  the  cavalry  an'  the  arthillery  an'  the 
caysons  an'  one  thing  an'  another  of  that  kind  would 
soon  crush  a  chayriot  like  that  to  flinders,  ye  know." 

"  I  cannot  leave  my  carriage,"  said  Desmit. 
"  Mein  Gott,  shust  hear  him  now  !"  said  a  voice  on  the 
other  side,  which  caused  Desmit  to  turn  with  a  start.  A 
bearded  German,  with  a  pair  of  myoptic  glasses  adding 
their  glare  to  the  peculiar  intensity  of  the  short-sighted 
gaze,  had  climbed  upon  the  opposite  wheel  during  his 
conversation  with  Pat,  and  leaning  half  through  the  win 
dow  was  scanning  carefully  the  inside  of  the  carriage. 
He  had  already  one  hand  on  the  demijohn  of  peach- 
brandy  upon  which  the  owner's  hopes  so  much  depended. 
Potetsatem  Desmit  was  no  coward,  and  his  gold-headed 
cane  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Dutchman's  poll  be 
fore  he  had  time  to  utter  a  word  of  protestation. 

It  was  all  over  in  a  minute,  then.  There  was  a  rush 
and  a  scramble.  The  old  man  was  dragged  out  of  his 
carriage,  fighting  manfully  but  vainly.  Twenty  hands 


96  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

laid  hold  upon  him.  The  gold-headed  cane  vanished  ; 
the  gold-mounted  glasses  disappeared  ;  his  watch  leaped 
from  his  pocket,  and  the  chain  was  soon  dangling  at  the 
fob  of  one  of  the  still  laughing  marauders.  Then  one 
insisted  that  his  hat  was  unbecoming  for  a  colonel,  and  a 
battered  and  dirty  infantry  cap  with  a  half-obliterated 
corps  badge  and  regimental  number  was  jammed  down 
on  his  gray  hairs  ;  he  was  required  to  remove  his  coat, 
and  then  another  took  a  fancy  to  his  vest.  The  one  who 
took  his  coat  gave  him  in  exchange  a  very  ragged,  greasy, 
and  altogether  disgusting  cavalry  jacket,  much  too  short, 
and  not  large  enough  to  button.  The  carriage  was 
almost  torn  in  pieces  in  the  search  for  treasure.  Swords 
and  bayonets  were  thrust  through  the  panelling  ;  the  cush 
ions  were  ripped  open,  the  cover  torn  off,  and  every  pos 
sible  hiding-place  examined.  Then  thinking  it  must  be 
about  his  person,  they  compelled  him  to  take  off  his 
boots  and  stockings.  In  their  stead  a  pair  of  almost 
solelcss  shoes  were  thrown  him  by  one  who  appropriated 
the  boots. 

Meantime  the  Irishman  had  distributed  the  contents 
of  the  demijohn,  after  having  filled  his  own  canteen. 
Then  there  was  great  hilarity.  The  taste  of  the  "  colo 
nel"  was  loudly  applauded  ;  his  health  was  drunk,  and  it 
was  finally  decided  to  move  on  with  him  in  charge.  The 
"  bummer"  who  rode  the  polled  ox  had,  in  the  mean  time, 
shifted  his  saddle  to  one  of  the  carriage-horses,  and 
kindly  offered  the  steer  to  the  "  colonel."  One  who 
had  come  upon  foot  had  already  mounted  the  other 
horse.  The  driver  performed  a  last  service  for  his  mas 
ter,  now  pale,  trembling,  and  tearful  at  the  insults  and 
atrocities  he  was  called  on  to  undergo,  by  spreading  one 
of  the  carriage  cushions  over  the  animal's  back  and  help 
ing  the  queerly-habited  potentate  to  mount  his  insignifi- 


ON    THE    WA  Y   TO    JERICHO.  97 

cant  steed.      It  was  better  than  marching  through    the 
hot  sand  on  foot,  however. 

When  they  reached  the  little  hamlet  which  had 
grown  up  around  his  collection  of  turpentine  distilleries 
they  saw  a  strange  sight.  The  road  which  bore  still 
further  to  the  southward  was  full  of  blue-coated 
soldiers,  who  marched  along  with  the  peculiar  swing 
ing  gait  which  marked  the  army  that  "  went  down 
to  the  sea."  Beyond  the  low  bridge,  under  a  clump 
of  pines  which  had  been  spared  for  shade,  stood  a  group 
of  horsemen,  one  of  whom  read  a  slip  of  paper,  or 
rather  shouted  its  contents  to  the  soldiery  as  they 
passed,  while  he  flourished  the  paper  above  his  head. 
Instantly  the  column  was  in  an  uproar.  Caps  were 
thrown  into  the  air,  voices  grew  hoarse  with  shouting  ; 
frantic  gesticulation,  tearful  eyes  and  laughter,  yells, 
inane  antics,  queer  combinations  of  sacrilegious  oaths 
and  absurd  embraces  were  everywhere  to  be  seen  and 
heard. 

"  Who  is  that  ?"  asked  Desmit  of  the  Irishman,  near 
whom  he  had  kept,  pointing  to  the  leading  man  of  the 
group  under  the  tree. 

"  Faith,  Kurnel,  that  is  Gineral  —       — .   Would  ye  like 
an  introduction,  Kurnel?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Desmit  impatiently. 

"  Thin  come  wid  me.  Shure  I'll  give  ye  one,  an'  tell 
him  ye  sint  him  a  dhrink  of  auld  pache  to  cilebrate  the 
good  news  with.  Come  along,  thin  !" 

Just  as  they  stepped  upon  the  bridge  Desmit  heard  a 
lank  Hoosier  ask, 

"  What  is  in  them  bar'ls  ?" 

And  some  one  answered, 

"  Turpentine." 

11  Hooray  !"  said  the  first.      "  A  bonfire  !" 


98  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Hurry  !  hurry  !"  Desmit  cried  to  his  guide. 

"  Come  on  thin,  auld  gintleman.  It's  mesilf  that'll 
not  go  back  on  a  man  that  furnishes  a  good  dhram  for 
so  joyful  an  occasion." 

They  dismounted,  and,  pressing  their  way  through  the 
surging  mass  on  the  bridge,  approached  the  group  under 
the  pines. 

"  Gineral,"  said  the  Irishman,  taking  off  the  silk  hat 
which  Desmit  had  worn  and  waving  it  in  the  air  ;  "  Gin 
eral,  I  have  the  honor  to  inthroduce  to  yean'  auld  gintle 
man — one  av  the  vera  furst  families — that's  come  out  to 
mate  ye,  an'  begs  that  ye'll  taste  jest  a  dhrap  av  the 
finest  auld  pache  that  ivver  ran  over  yer  tongue,  jist  ter 
cilebrate  this  vera  joyful  occasion." 

He  waved  his  hat  toward  Desmit,  and  handed  up  his 
canteen  at  once.  The  act  was  full  of  the  audacity  of  his 
race,  but  the  news  had  overthrown  all  sense  of  discipline. 
The  officer  even  lifted  the  canteen  to  his  lips,  and  no 
doubt  finding  Pat's  assertion  as  to  its  quality  to  be  true^ 
allowed  a  reasonable  quantity  of  its  aromatic  contents  to 
glide  down  his  throat,  and  then  handed  it  to  one  of  hiG 
companions. 

"  General  !  General  !"  shrieked  Desmit  in  despera 
tion,  as  he  rushed  forward. 

"  What  do  you  want,  sir  ?"  said  the  officer  sternly. 

There  was  a  rush,  a  crackle,  and  a  still  louder  shout. 

Both  turned  and  saw  a  tongue  of  red  flame  with  a 
black,  sooty  tip  leap  suddenly  skyward.  The  great  mass 
of  naval  stores  was  fired,  and  no  power  on  earth  could 
save  a  barrel  of  them  now.  Desmit  staggered  to  the 
nearest  tree,  and  faint  and  trembling  watched  the  flame. 
How  it  raged  !  How  the  barrels  burst  and  the  liquid 
flame  poured  over  the  ground  and  into  the  river  !  Still 
it  burned  !  The  whole  earth  seemed  aflame  !  How  the 


ON    THE   WA  Y    TO    JERICHO.  99 

black  billows  of  heavy  smoke  poured  upward,  hiding  the 
day  !  The  wind  shifted  and  swept  the  smoke-wave  over 
above  the  crowding,  hustling,  shouting  column.  It  began 
to  rain,  but  under  the  mass  of  heavy  smoke  the  group 
at  the  pines  stood  dry. 

And  still,  out  of  the  two  openings  in  the  dark  pines 
upon  the  other  side  of  the  stream,  poured  the  two  blue- 
clad,  steel-crowned  columns  !  Still  the  staff  officer 
shouted  the  glad  tidings,  "  Lee — surrendered — uncondi 
tionally  /"  Still  waved  aloft  the  dispatch!  Still  the 
boundless  forests  rang  with  shouts  !  Still  the  fierce  flame 
raged,  and  from  the  column  which  had  gone  into  the 
forest  beyond  came  back  the  solemn  chant,  which 
sounded  at  that  moment  like  the  fateful  voice  of  an 
avenging  angel  ,• 

"  John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  grave  ; 
His  soul  is  marching  on  !" 

One  who  looked  upon  the  scene  thinks  of  it  always 
when  he  reads  of  the  last  great  day — the  boundless  flame 
• — the  fervent  heat — the  shouts — the  thousands  like  the 
sands  of  the  sea — all  are  not  to  be  forgotten  until  the 
likeness  merges  into  the  dread  reality  ! 

The  Irishman  touched  Desmit  as  he  leaned  against 
the  pine. 

"  War  that  yours,  misther  ?"  he  asked,  not  unkindly. 

Desmit  nodded  affirmatively. 

"  Here,"  said  the  other,  extending  his  canteen. 
"  There's  a  drink  left.  Take  it." 

Desmit  took  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  drained  it 
to  the  last  drop. 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  Irishman  sympathetically. 
"  I'm  right  sorry  for  ye,  misther,  that  I  am  ;  but  don't  ye 
nivver  give  up  heart.  There's  more  turpentine  where 


ioo  BRICKS   WITHOUT   STRAW. 

that  come  from,  and  this  thing's  over  now.  I  couldn't 
find  yer  bull  for  ye,  mister,  but  here's  a  mule.  Ye'd 
better  jest  take  him  and  git  away  from  here  before  this 
row's  over.  Nobody '11  miss  ye  now." 

Two  weeks  afterward  a  queerly  clad  figure  rode  up 
to  the  elegant  mansion  of  Colonel  Potestatem  Desmit, 
overlooking  the  pleasant  town  of  Louisburg  in  the  county 
of  Horsford,  and  found  a  party  of  Federal  officers  loung 
ing  upon  his  wide  porches  and  making  merry  after  war's 
alarums  ! 


CHAPTER    XIII.  . 

NEGOTIATING    A    TREATY. 

NOT  only  did  Colonel  Desmit  lose  his  cotton  and 
naval  stores  ;  but  the  funds  which  he  had  invested,  with 
cautious  foresight,  in  the  bonds  of  the  State  and  the 
issues  of  its  banks,  were  also  made  worthless  by  the  result 
of  the  war.  Contrary  to  the  expectations  of  the  most 
prudent  and  far-seeing,  the  bonds  issued  by  the  States  in 
rebellion  during  the  period  of  war,  were  declared  to 
be  attaint  with  treason,  and  by  the  supreme  power  of  the 
land  were  forbidden  to  be  paid.  In  addition  to  this  he 
found  himself  -what  was  properly  termed  "land-poor." 
The  numerous  small  plantations  which  he  had  acquired 
in  different  parts  of  the  country,  in  pursuance  of  his 
original  and  inherited  design  of  acquiring  wealth  by 
slave-culture,  though  intrinsically  very  valuable,  were 
just  at  this  time  in  the  highest  degree  unavailable.  All 
lands  had  depreciated  to  a  considerable  extent,  but  the 
high  price  of  cotton  had  tempted  many  Northern  settlers 


and  capitalists  into  that  belt  of  country  where  this 
staple  had  been  most  successfully  raised,  and  their 
purchases,  as  well  as  the  continued  high  price  of  the 
staple,  had  kept  up  the  prices  of  cotton -lands  far  beyond 
all  others. 

Then,  too,  the  lack  of  ready  money  throughout 
the  country  and  the  general  indebtedness  made  an 
absolute  dearth  of  buyers.  In  the  four  years  of  war 
there  had  been  no  collections.  The  courts  had  been 
debarred  from  judgment  and  execution.  The  sheriff  had 
been  without  process,  the  lawyer  without  fees,  the  credi 
tor  without  his  money.  Few  indeed  had  taken  advan 
tage  of  this  state  of  affairs  to  pay  debts.  Money  had  been 
as  plenty  as  the  forest  leaves  in  autumn,  and  almost  as 
valueless.  The  creditor  had  not  desired  to  realize  on  his 
securities,  and  few  debtors  had  cared  to  relieve  them 
selves.  There  had  come  to  be  a  sort  of  general  belief 
that  when  the  war  ended  there  would  be  a  jubilee  for  all 
debtors — that  each  one  would  hold  what  he  had,  and  that 
a  promise  to  pay  would  no  more  trouble  or  make  afraid 
even  the  most  timid  soul.  So  that  when  the  courts  came 
to  be  unchained  and  the  torrent  of  judgments  and  ex 
ecutions  poured  forth  under  their  seals,  the  whole 
country  was  flooded  with  bankruptcy.  Almost  nobody 
could  pay.  A  few,  by  deft  use  of  present  advantages, 
gathered  means  to  discharge  their  own  liabilities  and  take 
advantage  of  the  failure  of  others  to  do  so.  Yet  they  were 
few  indeed.  On  every  court-house  the  advertisements 
of  sale  covered  the  panels  of  the  door  and  overflowed 
upon  the  walls.  Thousands  of  homesteads,  aye,  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  homes — millions  of  acres — were  sold  al 
most  for  a  song — frequently  less  than  a  shilling  an  acre, 
generally  less  than  a  dollar. 

Colonel   Desmit  had  not  been  an  exception  to  these 


102  .jfrK  ICA'S.  W*  TffOJJ  1 '  X  TRA  W. 

rules.  He  had  not  paid  the  obligations  maturing  during 
the  war  simply  because  he  knew  he  could  not  be  com 
pelled  to  do  so.  Instead  of  that,  he  had  invested  his  sur 
plus  in  lands,  cotton,  and  naval  stores.  Now  the  evil 
day  was  not  far  off,  as  he  knew,  and  he  had  little  to 
meet  it.  Nevertheless  he  made  a  brave  effort.  The 
ruggedness  of  the  disowned  family  of  Smiths  and  the 
chicanery  inherited  from  the  gnarly-headed  and  subtle- 
minded  old  judge  came  to  his  rescue,  and  he  determined 
not  to  fail  without  a  fight.  He  shingled  himself  with 
deeds  of  trust  and  sales  under  fraudulent  judgments  or 
friendly  liens,  to  delay  if  they  did  not  avert  calamity. 
Then  he  set  himself  at  work  to  effect  sales.  He  soon 
swallowed  his  wrath  and  appealed  to  the  North — the 
enemy  to  whom  he  owed  all  his  calamities,  as  he  thought. 
He  sent  flaming  circulars  to  bleak  New  England — health- 
exhibits  to  the  smitten  of  consumption,  painting  the  ad 
vantages  of  climate,  soil,  and  society — did  all  in  his  power 
to  induce  immigrants  to  come  and  buy,  in  order  that  he 
might  beat  off  poverty  and  failure  and  open  disgrace. 
He  made  a  brave  fight, but  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  to 
sell  an  acre  to  a  colored  man  when  he  was  accosted  by 
Nimbus,  who,  still  wearing  some  part  of  his  uniform, 
came  over  to  negotiate  with  him  for  the  purchase  of  Red 
Wing. 

All  these  untoward  events  had  not  made  the  master  of 
Knapp-of-Reeds  peculiarly  amiable,  or  kindly  disposed 
toward  any  whom  he  deemed  in  the  remotest  manner  re 
sponsible  for  his  loss.  For  two  classes  he  could  not  find 
words  sufficient  to  express  his  loathing — namely,  Yankees 
and  Secessionists.  To  the  former  directly  and  to  the  latter 
indirectly  he  attributed  all  his  ills.  The  colored  man 
he  hated  as  a  man,  as  bitterly  as  he  had  before  highly 
prized  him  as  a  slave.  At  the  outset  of  the  war  he  had 


NEGOTIATING  A    TREATY.  103 

been  openly  blamed  for  his  coolness  toward  the  cause  of 
the  Confederacy.  Then,  for  a  time,  he  had  acquiesced 
in  what  was  done — had  "  gone  with  his  State,"  as  it  was 
then  expressed — and  still  later,  when  convinced  of  the 
hopelessness  of  the  struggle,  he  had  advocated  peace 
measures  ;  to  save  his  property  at  all  hazards,  some  said  ; 
because  he  was  at  heart  a  Unionist,  others  declared  So, 
he  had  come  to  regard  himself  as  well  disposed  toward 
the  Union,  and  even  had  convinced  himself  that  he  had 
suffered  persecution  for  righteousness'  sake,  when,  in 
truth,  his  "  Unionism"  was  only  an  investment  made  to 
avoid  loss. 

These  things,  however,  tended  to  embitter  him  all 
the  more  against  all  those  persons  and  events  in  any 
manner  connected  with  his  misfortunes.  It  was  in 
such  a  mood  and  under  such  circumstances,  that  word 
was  brought  to  Mr.  Desmit  in  his  private  library,  that 
"  a  nigger"  wanted  to  see  him.  The  servant  did  not 
know  his  name,  what  he  wanted,  or  where  he  came  from. 
She  could  only  say  that  he  had  ridden  there  on  a  "  right 
peart  mule"  and  was  a  "  right  smart-looking  boy."  She 
was  ordered  to  bring  him  in,  and  Nimbus  stood  before  his 
master  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  been  sent  down  the 
country  to  work  on  fortifications  intended  to  prevent  the 
realization  of  his  race's  long-delayed  vision  of  freedom. 
He  came  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  saying  respectfully, 

"  How  d'ye,  Marse  Desmit  ?" 

"  Is  that  you,  Nimbus  ?  Get  right  out  of  here  !  I 
don't  want  any  such  grand  rascal  nigger  in  my  house." 

"  But,  Marse  Desmit,"  began  the  colored  man, 
greatly  flurried  by  this  rude  greeting. 

'  I  don't  want  any  'buts.'  Damn  you,  I've  had 
enough  of  all  such  cattle.  What  are  you  here  for,  any 
how  ?  Why  don't  you  go  back  to  the  Yankees  that  you 


104  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

ran  away  to  ?  I  suppose  you  want  I  should  feed  you, 
clothe  you,  support  you,  as  I've  been  doing  for  your  lazy 
wife  and  children  ever  since  the  surrender.  1  shan't  do 
it  a  day  longer — not  a  day  !  D'ye  hear  ?  Get  off  from 
my  land  before  the  sun  goes  down  to-morrow  or  I'll  have 
the  overseer  set  his  dogs  on  you." 

"All  right,"  said  Nimbus  coolly;  "  jes  yer  pay  my 
wife  what's  due  her  and  we'll  leave  ez  soon  ez  yer 
please." 

"  Due  her  ?  You  damned  black  rascal,  do  you  stand 
there  and  tell  me  I  owe  her  anything  ?" 

Strangely  enough,  the  colored  man  did  not  quail.  His 
army  life  had  taught  him  to  stand  his  ground,  even 
against  a  white  man,  and  he  had  not  yet  learned  how 
necessary  it  was  to  unlearn  the  lesson  of  liberty  and  as 
sume  again  the  role  of  the  slave.  The  white  man  was 
astounded.  Here  was  a  "  sassy  nigger"  indeed!  This 
was  what  freedom  did  for  them  ! 

"  Her  papers  dat  you  gib  her  at  de  hirin',  Marse 
Potem,"  said  Nimbus,  "  says  dat  yer  shall  pay  her  fo' 
dollars  a  month  an'  rations.  She's  hed  de  rations  all 
reg'lar,  Marse  Desmit  ;  dat's  all  right,  but  not  a  dollar 
ob  de  money." 

'  You  lie,  you  black  rascal  !"  said  Desmit  excitedly  ; 
"  she's  drawn  every  cent  of  it  !" 

"Wai,"  said  Nimbus,  "  ef  dat's  what  yer  say,  we'll 
hev  ter  let  de  '  Bureau  '  settle  it." 

"What,  sir?  You  rascal,  do  you  threaten  me  with 
the  '  Bureau  '  ?"  shouted  Desmit,  starting  toward  him  in 
a  rage,  and  aiming  a  blow  at  him  with  the  heavy  walking- 
stick  he  carried. 

"  Don't  do  dat,  Marse  Desmit,"  cried  the  colored 
man  ;  "  don't  do  dat  !" 

There  was  a  dangerous  gleam  in  his  eye,  but  the  white 


NEGOTIATING  A    TREATY.  105 

man  did  not  heed  the  warning.  His  blow  fell  not  on  the 
colored  man's  head,  but  on  his  upraised  arm,  and  the 
next  moment  the  cane  was  wrested  from  his  hands,  and 
the  recent  slave  stood  over  his  former  master  as  he  lay 
upon  the  floor,  where  he  had  fallen  or  been  thrown,  and 
said  : 

"  Don't  yer  try  dat,  Marse  Desmit ;  I  won't  bar  it — 
dat  I  won't,  from  no  man,  black  ner  white.  1'se  been 
a  sojer  sence  I  was  a  slave,  an'  ther  don't  no  man  hit 
me  a  lick  jes  cos  I'm  black  enny  mo'.  Yer's  an'  ole 
man,  Marse  Desmit,  an'  yer  wuz  a  good  'nough  marster 
ter  me  in  the  ole  times,  but  yer  mustn't  try  ter  beat  a 
free  man.  I  don't  want  ter  hurt  yer,  but  yer  mustn't 
do  dat !" 

"  Then  get  out  of  here  instantly,"  said  Desmit,  rising 
and  pointing  toward  the  door. 

"  All  right,  Marse,"  said  Nimbus,  stooping  for  his  hat  ; 
"  'tain't  no  use  fer  ye  to  be  so  mad,  though.  I  jes  come 
fer  to  make  a  trade  wid  ye." 

"  Get  out  of  here,  you  damned,  treacherous,  ungrateful, 
black  rascal.  I  wish  every  one  of  your  whole  race  had 
the  small-pox  !  Get  out  !" 

As  Nimbus  turned  to  go,  he  continued  : 

"  And  get  your  damned  lazy  tribe  off  from  my  planta 
tion  before  to-morrow  night,  if  you  don't  want  the  dogs 
put  on  them,  too  !" 

"  I  ain't  afeard  o'  yer  dogs,"  said  Nimbus,  as  he  went 
down  the  hall,  and,  mounting  his  mule,  rode  away. 

With  every  step  his  wrath  increased.  It  was  well  for 
Potestatem  Desmit  that  he  was  not  present  to  feel  the 
anger  of  the  black  giant  whom  he  had  enraged.  Once 
or  twic%  he  turned  back,  gesticulating  fiercely  and  trem 
bling  with  rage.  Then  he  seemed  to  think  better  of  it, 
and,  turning  his  mule  into  the  town  a  mile  off  his  road, 


106  XKICA'S   WITHOUT   STRAW. 

he  lodged  a  complaint  against  his  old  master,  with  the 
officer  of  the  "  Bureau,"  and  then  rode  quietly  home, 
satisfied  to  "  let  de  law  take  its  course,"  as  he 
said.  He  was  glad  that  there  was  a  la\v  for  him 
— a  law  that  put  him  on  the  level  with  his  old 
master — and  meditated  gratefully,  as  he  rode  home,  on 
what  the  nation  had  wrought  in  his  behalf  since  the  time 
when  "  Marse  Desmit"  had  sent  him  along  that  very 
road  with  an  order  to  "  Marse  Ware"  to  give  him 
"  twenty  lashes  well  laid  on."  The  silly  fellow  thought 
that  thenceforth  he  was  going  to  have  a  "  white  man's 
chance  in  life."  He  did  not  know  that  in  our  free 
American  Government,  while  the  Federal  power  can  law 
fully  and  properly  ordain  and  establish  the  theoretical 
rights  of  its  citizens,  it  has  no  legal  power  to  support  and 
maintain  those  rights  against  the  encroachment  of  any  of 
the  States,  since  in  those  matters  the  State  is  sovereign, 
and  the  part  is  greater  than  the  whole. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

BORN      OF      THE      STORM. 

PERHAPS  there  was  never  any  more  galling  and  hated 
badge  of  defeat  imposed  upon  a  conquered  people  than 
the  "  Bureau  of  Freedmen,  Refugees,  and  Abandoned 
Lands,"  a  branch  of  the  Federal  executive  power  which 
grew  out  of  the  necessities  of  the  struggle  to  put  down 
rebellion,  and  to  which,  little  by  little,  cnme  to  be  referred 
very  many  of  those  matters  which  could  by  no  rfteans  be 
neglected,  but  which  did  not  properly  fall  within  the 
purview  of  any  other  branch  of  military  administration. 


BORN  OF  THE   STORM.  107 

It  is  known,  in  these  latter  days,  simply  as  the  Freed- 
men's  Bureau,  and  thought  to  have  been  a  terrible  en 
gine  of  oppression  and  terror  and  infamy,  because 
of  the  denunciations  which  the  former  slave- owners 
heaped  upon  it,  and  the  usually  accepted  idea  that 
the  mismanaged  and  malodorous  Freedmen's  Savings  t 
Bank  was,  somehow  or  other,  an  outgrowth  and  exponent 
of  this  institution.  The  poor  thing  is  dead  now,  and,  like 
dead  humanity,  the  good  it  did  has  been  interred  with 
its  bones.  It  has  been  buried,  with  curses  deep  and 
b;tter  for  its  funeral  obsequies.  Its  officers  have  been 
loaded  with  infamy.  Even  its  wonderful  results  have 
been  hidden  from  the  sight  of  man,  and  its  history  black 
ened  with  shame  and  hate.  It  is  one  of  the  curious  in 
dices  of  public  feeling  that  the  North  listened,  at  first, 
with  good-natured  indifference  to  the  virulent  diatribes 
of  the  recently  conquered  people  in  regard  to  this  insti 
tution  ;  after  a  time  wonder  succeeded  to  indifference  ; 
until  finally,  while  it  was  still  an  active  branch  of  the 
public  service,  wondering  credulity  succeeded,  and  its 
name  became  synonymous  with  disgrace  ;  so  that  now 
there  is  hardly  a  corner  of  the  land  in  which  a  man  can 
be  found  brave  enough  to  confess  that  he  wore  the  uni 
form  and  performed  the  duties  of  an  agent  of  the 
"  Freedmen's  Bureau."  The  thorough  subserviency  of 
Northern  sentiment  to  the  domination  of  that  masterly 
will  which  characterized  "  the  South"  of  the  old  regime 
was  never  better  illustrated.  "  Curse  me  this  people  !" 
said  the  Southern  Balak — of  the  Abolitionist  first,  of 
the  Bureau-Officer  next,  and  then  of  the  Carpet-Bagger. 
The  Northern  Balaam  hemmed  and  paltered,  and  then — 
cursed  the  children  of  his  loins  ! 

Of  the  freedmen,  our  recent  allies  in  war,  the  grateful 
and  devoted  friends  of  the  nation  which  had  opened  for 


io8  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

them  the  gateway  of  the  future,  not  one  of  the  whole  four 
millions  had  a  word  to  utter  in  reproach  of  this  branch 
of  the  service,  in  which  they  were  particularly  interested. 
Strangely  enough,  too,  none  of  those  Union  men  of  the 
South,  who  had  been  refugees  during  the  war  or  friends 
of  that  Union  after  its  close,  joined  in  the  complaints 
and  denunciations  which  were  visited  on  this  institution 
and  its  agents.  Neither  did  the  teachers  of  colored 
schools,  nor  the  officers  and  agents  of  those  charitable 
and  missionary  associations  of  the  North,  whose  especial 
work  and  purpose  was  the  elevation  and  enlightenment 
of  the  colored  man,  see  fit  to  unite  in  that  torrent  of  de 
traction  which  swept  over  the  country  in  regard  to  the 
"  Bureau"  and  its  agents.  But  then,  it  may  be  that 
none  of  these  classes  were  able  to  judge  truly  and  im 
partially  of  its  character  and  works  !  They  may  have 
been  prepossessed  in  its  favor  to  an  extent  which  pre 
vented  a  fair  and  honest  determination  in  regard  to  it. 

Certain  it  is  that  those  who  stood  upon  the  other  side — 
those  who  instituted  and  carried  on  rebellion,  or  the 
greater  part  of  them,  and  every  one  of  those  who  opposed 
reconstruction,  who  fought  to  the  last  moment  the  en 
franchisement  of  the  black  ;  every  one  who  denied  the 
right  of  the  nation  to  emancipate  the  slave  ;  every  one  who 
clamored  for  the  payment  of  the  State  debts  contracted 
during  the  war  ;  all  of  those  who  proposed  and  imposed 
the  famous  "  black  codes," — every  one  of  these  classes 
and  every  man  of  each  class  avowed  himself  unable  to  find 
words  to  express  the  infamy,  corruption,  and  oppression 
which  characterized  the  administration  of  that  climacteric 
outrage  upon  a  brave,  generous,  overwhelmed  but  un- 
conquered — forgiving  but  not  to  be  forgiven,  people. 

They  felt  themselves  to  have  been  in  all  things  utterly 
innocent  and  guileless.  The  luck  of  war  had  been  ter- 


BORN  OF  THE   STORM.  109 

ribly  against  them,  they  considered,  but  the  right  remained 
with  them.  They  were  virtuous.  Their  opponents  had 
not  only  been  the  aggressors  at  the  outset,  but  had  shown 
themselves  little  better  than  savages  by  the  manner  in 
which  they  had  conducted  the  war  ;  and,  to  crown  the 
infamy  of  their  character,  had  imposed  upon  "  the  South" 
at  its  close  that  most  nefarious  of  all  detestable  forms 
of  oppressive  degradation,  "the  Bureau."  Their  ora 
tors  grew  magniloquent  over  its  tyrannical  oppression  ; 
the  Southern  press  overflowed  with  that  marvellous  ex 
uberance  of  diatribe  of  which  they  are  the  acknowledged 
masters — to  all  of  which  the  complaisant  North  gave  a 
ready  and  subservient  concurrence,  until  the  very  name 
reeked  in  the  public  mind  with  infamous  associations 
and  degrading  ideas. 

A  few  men  tried  to  stem  the  torrent.  Some  who  had 
been  in  its  service  even  dared  to  insist  that  they  had  not 
thereby  rendered  themselves  infamous  and  unworthy. 
The  nation  listened  for  a  time  with  kindly  pity  to  their 
indignant  protests,  and  then  buried  the  troublesome  and 
persistent  clamorers  in  the  silence  of  calm  but  considerate 
disbelief.  They  were  quietly  allowed  to  sink  into  the 
charitable  grave  of  unquestioning  oblivion.  It  was  not 
any  personal  attaint  which  befouled  their  names  and 
blasted  their  public  prospects,  but  simply  the  fact  that 
they  had  obeyed  the  nation's  behest  and  done  a  work 
assigned  to  them  by  the  country's  rulers.  Thus  it  came 
to  pass  that  in  one  third  of  the  country  it  was  an  in 
effaceable  brand  of  shame  to  have  been  at  any  time  an  , 
agent  or  officer  of  this  Bureau,  and  throughout  the  rest 
of  the  country  it  was  accounted  a  fair  ground  for  sus 
picion.  In  it  all,  the  conquering  element  was  simply  the 
obedient  indicator  which  recorded  and  proclaimed  the 
sentiment  and  wish  of  the  conquered.  The  words  of 


no  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

the  enemy  were  always  regarded  as  being  stamped  with 
the  mint-mark  of  truth  and  verity,  while  the  declarations  of 
our  allies  accounted  so  apparently  false  and  spurious  as 
to  be  unworthy  of  consideration,  even  when  attested  by 
sworn  witnesses  and  written  in  blood  upon  a  page  of 
history  tear- blotted  and  stained  with  savage  deeds.  All 
this  was  perfectly  natural,  however,  and  arose,  almost 
unavoidably,  from  the  circumstances  under  which  the  in 
stitution  was  created  and  the  duties  which  it  was  called 
upon  to  discharge.  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  consider 
again  the  circumstances  under  which  it  came  to  exist. 

This  is  how  this  institution  had  its  origin  :  As  the 
war  to  put  down  rebellion  progressed  and  our  armies  ad 
vanced  farther  and  farther  into  the  heart  of  the  Con 
federacy,  the  most  devoted  and  malignant  adherents  of 
the  Confederate  cause  abandoned  their  homes  and  all 
that  they  could  not  easily  take  with  them,  and  fled 
within  the  Confederate  lines.  Those  white  people 
who  were  adverse  to  the  Confederate  cause,  or  at  least 
lukewarm  in  its  support,  spurred  by  the  rigors  of  con 
scription  and  the  dangers  01  proscription  and  imprison 
ment,  took  their  lives  in  their  hands,  left  their  homes, 
and  fled  by  every  available  road  to  the  shelter  of  the 
Federal  forces.  Those  T* ho  had  no  homes — the  slaves — 
cither  deserted  by  their  owners  or  fancying  they  saw  in 
that  direction  a  glimmer  of  possible  freedom,  swarmed  in 
flank  and  rear  of  every  blue-clad  column  which  invaded 
the  Confederacy,  by  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands. 
They  fled  as  the  Israelites  did  from  the  bondage  of  Egypt, 
with  that  sort  of  instinctive  terror  which  has  in  all 
ages  led  individuals,  peoples,  and  races  to  flee  from  the 
scene  of  oppression.  The  whites  who  came  to  us  were 
called  "refugees,"  and  the  blacks  at  first  "contrabands,** 
and  after  January  i,  1863,  "fieedmen. "  Of  course 


BORN  OF  THE    STORM.  in 

they  had  to  be  taken  care  of.  The  "  refugee"  brought 
nothing  with  him  ;  the  freedrnan  had  nothing  to  bring. 
The  abandoned  lands  of  the  Confederates  were,  in  many 
cases,  susceptible  of  being  used  to  employ  and  supply 
these  needy  classes  who  came  to  us  for  aid  and  suste 
nance.  It  was  to  do  this  that  the  Freedrnen's  Bureau 
was  created. 

Its  mission  was  twofold — to  extend  the  helping  hand 
to  the  needy  who  without  such  aid  must  have  per 
ished  by  disease  and  want,  and  to  reduce  the  expenses 
of  such  charity  by  the  cultivation  and  utilization  of 
abandoned  lands.  It  was  both  a  business  and  a  mission 
ary  enterprise.  This  was  its  work  and  mission  until  the 
war  ended.  Its  "  agents  "  were  chosen  from  among  the 
wounded  veteran  officers  of  our  army,  or  were  detached 
from  active  service  by  reason  of  their  supposed  fitness  on 
account  of  character  or  attainments.  Almost  every  one 
of  them  had  won  honor  with  the  loss  of  limb  or  of  health  ; 
all  had  the  indorsement  and  earnest  approval  of  men 
high  in  command  of  our  armies,  who  had  personal 
knowledge  of  their  character  and  believed  in  their  fitness. 
This  renders  it  all  the  more  remarkable  that  these  men 
should  so  soon  and  so  universally,  as  was  stoutly  alleged 
and  weakly  believed,  have  become  thieves  and  vagabonds 
— corrupters  of  the  blacks  and  oppressors  of  the  whites. 
It  only  shows  how  altogether  impossible  it  is  to  foresee 
the  consequences  of  any  important  social  or  political 
movement  upon  the  lives  and  characters  of  those  exposed 
to  its  influences. 

When  the  war  ended  there  were  four  millions  of  men, 
women,  and  children  without  homes,  houses,  lands, 
money,  food,  knowledge,  law,  right,  family,  friends,  or 
possibility  for  self-support.  All  these  the  Bureau  adopt 
ed.  They  constituted  a  vast  family  of  foundlings,  whose 


H2  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

care  was  a  most  difficult  and  delicate  matter,  but  there 
was  not  one  among  them  all  who  complained  of  the  treat 
ment  they  received. 

It  is  somewhat  strange,  too,  that  the  officers  of  this 
branch  of  the  service  should  have  all  misbehaved  in  ex 
actly  the  same  manner.  Their  acts  of  oppression  and  out 
rage  were  always  perpetrated  in  defence  of  some  supposed 
right  of  a  defenceless  and  friendless  race,  overwhelmed 
with  poverty — the  bondmen  of  ignorance — who  had  no 
money  with  which  to  corrupt,  no  art  with  which  to  be 
guile,  and  no  power  with  which  to  overawe  these  repre 
sentatives  of  authority.  For  the  first  time  in  the  history 
of  mankind,  the  corrupt  and  unprincipled  agents  of  un 
defined  power  became  the  servants,  friends,  protectors, 
agents,  and  promoters  of  the  poor  and  weak  and  the 
oppressors  of  the  rich,  the  strong,  the  learned,  and  the 
astute. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  view  cannot  be  true  ;  that 
thousands  of  men  selected  from  the  officers  of  our  citi 
zen-soldiery  by  the  unanswerable  certificate  of  disabling 
wounds  and  the  added  prestige  of  their  commander's 
recommendation,  a  class  of  men  in  physical,  intellectual 
and  moral  power  and  attainments  far  superior  to  the 
average  of  the  American  people — it  may  be  said  that  such 
could  not  have  become  all  at  once  infamously  bad  ;  and, 
if  they  did  suffer  such  transformation,  would  have  op 
pressed  the  blacks  at  the  instigation  of  the  whites,  who 
were  willing  and  able  to  pay  well  for  such  subversion  of 
authority,  and  not  the  reverse.  This  would  seem  to  be 
true,  but  we  are  not  now  dealing  with  speculations,  but 
with  facts  !  We  know  that  they  did  become  such  a  pest  be 
cause  at  the  South  they  were  likened  to  the  plagues  of 
Egypt,  and  the  North  reiterated  and  affirmed  this  cry  and 
condoled  with  the  victims  of  the  oppression  with  much 


BORN  OF  THE    STORM.  113 

show  of  penitence,  and  an  unappeasable  wrath  toward  the 
instruments  of  the  iniquity.  Thus  the  voice  of  the  people 
— that  voice  which  is  but  another  form  of  the  voice  of  God 
— proclaimed  these  facts  to  the  world,  so  that  they  must 
thenceforth  be  held  indisputable  and  true  beyond  the 
utmost  temerity  of  scepticism.  The  facts  remain.  The 
puzzling  why\  let  whosoever  will  endeavor  to  elucidate. 

Perhaps  the  most  outrageous  and  debasing  of  all  the 
acts  of  the  Bureau,  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  love  to  term 
themselves  "the  South,"  was  the  fact  that  its  officers 
and  agents,  first  of  all,  allowed  the  colored  man  to  be 
sworn  in  opposition  to  and  in  contradiction  of  the  word 
of  a  white  man. 

That  this  should  be  exasperating  and  degrading  to  the 
Southern  white  man  was  most  natural  and  reasonable. 
The  very  corner-stone  of  Southern  legislation  and  juris 
prudence  for  more  than  a  hundred  years  was  based  upon 
this  idea  :  the  negro  can  have  no  rights,  and  can  testify  as 
to  no  rights  or  wrongs,  as  against  a  white  man.  So  that 
the  master  might  take  his  slave  with  him  when  he  com 
mitted  murder  or  did  any  other  act  in  contravention  of 
law  or  right,  and  that  slave  was  like  the  mute  eunuch  of 
the  seraglio,  silent  and  voiceless  before  the  law.  Indeed, 
the  law  had  done  for  the  slave-owner,  with  infinitely  more 
of  mercy  and  kindness,  what  the  mutilators  of  the  upper 
Nile  were  wont  to  do  for  the  keepers  of  the  harems  of 
Cairo  and  Constantinople — provided  them  with  slaves 
who  should  see  and  hear  and  serve,  but  should  never 
testify  of  what  they  saw  and  knew.  To  reverse  this  rule, 
grown  ancient  and  venerable  by  the  practice  of  genera 
tions,  to  open  the  mouths  which  had  so  long  been  sealed, 
was  only  less  infamous  and  dangerous  than  to  accord 
credence  to  the  words  they  might  utter.  To  do  both 
was  to  "  turn  back  the  tide  of  time,"  indeed,  and  it 


H4  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

passed  the  power  of  language  to  portray  the  anger,  dis 
gust,  and  degradation  which  it  produced  in  the  Southern 
mind.  To  be  summoned  before  the  officer  of  the  Bureau, 
confronted  with  a  negro  who  denied  his  most  solemn 
averments,  and  was  protected  in  doing  so  by  the  officer 
who,  perhaps,  showed  the  bias  of  the  oppressor  by  be 
lieving  the  negro  instead  of  the  gentleman,  was  unques 
tionably,  to  the  Southerner,  the  most  degrading  ordeal  he 
could  by  any  possibility  be  called  upon  to  pass  through. 

From  this  it  will  be  understood  that  Colonel  Desmit 
passed  a  most  uneasy  night  after  Nimbus  had  left  his 
house.  He  had  been  summoned  before  the  Bureau  ! 
He  had  expected  it.  Hardly  had  he  given  way  to  his 
petulant  anger  when  he  recognized  the  folly  of  his  course. 
The  demeanor  of  the  colored  man  had  been  so  "  sassy" 
and  aggravating,  however,  that  no  one  could  have  resist 
ed  his  wrath,  he  was  sure.  Indeed,  now  that  he  came  to 
look  back  at  it,  he  wondered  that  he  had  been  so  con 
siderate.  He  was  amazed  that  he  had  not  shot  the  im 
pudent  rascal  on  the  spot  instead  of  striking  him  with  his 
walking -stick,  which  he  was  very  confident  was  the 
worst  that  could  be  urged  against  him.  However,  that 
was  enough,  for  he  remembered  with  horror  that,  not  long 
before,  this  same  Bureau  officer  had  actually  imprisoned  a 
most  respectable  and  correct  man  for  having  whipped  a 
"  nigger"  at  work  in  his  crop,  who  had  been  "  too 
sassy"  to  be  tolerated  by  any  gentleman. 

So  k  was  with  much  trepidation  that  the  old  man  went 
into  the  town  the  next  morning,  secured  the  services  of 
a  lawyer,  and  prepared  for  his  trial  before  the  "  Bureau." 
Nimbus  was  intercepted  as  he  came  into  town  with  his 
wife,  and  an  attempt  made  to  induce  him  to  withdraw  the 
prosecution,  but  that  high-minded  litigant  would  hear 
nothing  of  the  proposed  compromise.  He  had  put  his 


BORN  OF  THE    STORM.  115 

hand  to  the  plow  and  would  not  look  back.  He  had 
appealed  to  the  law — "  the  Bureau"  and  only  "  the 
Bureau"  should  decide  it.  So  Colonel  Desmit  and  his  law 
yer  asked  a  few  hours'  delay  and  prepared  themselves  to 
resist  and  disprove  the  charge  of  assault  upon  Nimbus. 
The  lawyer  once  proposed  to  examine  the  papers  in  the 
case,  but  Desmit  said  that  was  useless — the  boy  was  no 
liar,  though  they  must  make  him  out  one  if  they  could. 
So,  at  the  time  appointed,  with  his  lawyer  and  train  of 
witnesses,  he  went  before  "  the  Bureau,"  and  there  met 
Nimbus  and  his  wife,  Lugena. 

1  The  Bureau' '  wore  the  uniform  of  a  captain  of  United 
States  infantry,  and  was  a  man  about  forty-five  years  of 
age,  grave  and  serious  of  look,  with  an  empty  sleeve 
folded  decorously  over  his  breast.  His  calm  blue  eyes, 
pale,  refined  face,  and  serious  air  gave  him  the  appearance 
of  a  minister  rather  than  a  ruthless  oppressor,  but  his  rep 
utation  for  cruelty  among  certain  people  was  as  well  es 
tablished  as  that  of  Jeffreys.  He  greeted  Mr.  Desmit  and 
his  attorney  with  somewhat  constrained  politeness,  and 
when  they  were  seated  proceeded  to  read  the  complaint, 
which  simply  recited  that  Colonel  Desmit,  having  employ 
ed  Lugena,  the  wife  of  complainant,  at  a  given  rate  per 
month,  had  failed  to  make  payment,  and  had  finally, 
without  cause,  ordered  her  off  his  premises. 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

;<  That  is  all,"  answered  the  officer. 

"  Has  no  other  complaint  been  lodged  against  Colonel 
Desmit  ?" 

11  None." 

"We  cannot — that  is — we  did  not  expect  this,"  said 
the  attorney,  and  then  after  a  whispered  consultation  with 
his  client,  he  added,  "  We  are  quite  willing  to  make  this 


n6  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

matter  right.  We  had  entirely  misunderstood  the  nature 
of  the  complaint." 

"  Have  you  any  further  complaint  to  make  against 
Colonel  Desmit  ?"  asked  the  officer,  of  Nimbus. 

"  No,"  said  that  worthy,  doubtfully.  "  He  was 
pretty  brash  wid  me,  an'  'llowed  ter  hit  me  wid  a  stick  ; 
but  he  didn't — at  least  not  ter  speak  on — so  I  don't  make 
no  'count  ob  dat.  'Twas  jes  dis  matter  ob  Lugeny's  wuk 
dat  made  me  bring  him  h'yer — nuffin'  else." 

"  When  did  this  matter  of  the  stick  occur  ?"  asked  the 
officer. 

"  On'y  jes  yeste'day,  sah." 

'•  Where  was  it?" 

"  Up  ter  Marse  Potem's,  sah.      In  his  house." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ? " 

"  Wai,  you  see,  sah,  I  went  up  dar  ter  see  ef  I  could 
buy  a  track  ob  Ian'  from  him,  an' — " 

"  What  !"  exclaimed  Desmit,  in  astonishment.  "  You 
didn't  say  a  word  to  me  about  land." 

"  No  more  I  didn't,"  answered  Nimbus,  "  kase  yer 
didn't  gib  me  no  chance  ter  say  a  word  'bout  it.  'Feared 
like  de  fus  sight  on  me  made  yer  mad,  an'  den  yer  jes 
feathered  away  on  me,  spite  ob  all  I  could  do  er  say. 
Yer  see,  sah,"  to  the  officer,  "  I'd  made  a  bit  ob  money 
in  de  wah,  an'  wanted  ter  see  ef  I  could  buy  a  bit  ob  pore 
Ian*  ob  Marse  Desmit — a  track  jes  good  fer  nothin  on'y 
fer  a  nigga  ter  starve  on — but  afore  1  could  git  to  dat 
Marse  .Desmit  got  so  uproarous-like  dat  I  clean  fergot 
what  'twas  I  cum  fer." 

"  There  was  evidently  a  misunderstanding,"  said  the 
attorney. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  the  officer,  dryly.  '  You 
say  you  have  no  complaint  to  make  about  that  affair?" 
he  added  to  Nimbus. 


TO   HIM  AND   HIS  HEIRS  FOREVER.          117 

"No,"  said  he  ;  "  'twan't  a  tingob  any  'count,  nohow. 
I  can't  make  out  what  'twas  made  Marse  Potem  so  frac 
tious  anyhow.  I  reckon,  as  he  says,  dar  must  hev  ben 
some  mistake  about  it.  Ef  he'll  fix  up  dis  matter  wid 
Lugena,  I  hain't  no  mo'  complaint,  an'  I'se  mighty 
sorry  'bout  dat,  kase  Marse  Desmithab  allus  been  mighty 
kin'  ter  me — all  'cept  dis  time  an'  once  afo'." 

'  There's  the  money  "for  the  woman,"  said  the  attor 
ney,  laying  some  bills  on  the  officer's  table  ;  "  and  I  may 
say  that  my  client  greatly  regrets  the  unfortunate  misun 
derstanding  with  one  of  the  best  of  his  old  slaves.  He 
desires  me  to  say  that  the  woman's  services  have  been 
entirely  satisfactory,  and  that  she  can  keep  right  on  under 
the  contract,  if  she  desires." 

So  that  was  settled.  The  officer  discharged  Colonel 
Desmit,  commended  Nimbus  for  the  sensible  view  he 
had  taken  of  the  quarrel,  and  the  parties  gave  way  for 
other  matters  which  awaited  the  officer's  attention. 

This  would  not  seem  to  have  been  so  very  oppressive, 
but  anything  growing  out  of  the  war  which  had  resulted 
so  disastrously  for  him  was  hateful  to  Colonel  Desmit, 
and  we  should  not  wonder  if  his  grandchildren  told  over, 
with  burning  cheeks,  the  story  of  the  affront  which  was 
offered  to  their  ancestor  in  haling  him  before  that  in 
famous  tribunal,  "  the  Bureau, ' '  to  answer  a  charge  pre 
ferred  by  a  "  nigger." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

TO    HIM    AND    HIS    HEIRS    FOREVER. 

AFTER  leaving  the  office  of  "  the  Bureau,"  the  parties 
repaired  to  that  of  the  lawyer,  and  the  trade  for  the  land 
which  had  been  so  inopportunely  forestalled  by  Colonel 


ii 8  BRICK'S  WITHOUT   STRAW. 

Desmit's  hasty  temper  was  entered  upon  in  ear 
nest.  That  gentleman's  financial  condition  was  such  as 
to  render  the  three  or  four  hundred  dollars  of  ready 
money  which  Nimbus  could  pay  by  no  means  undesira 
ble,  while  the  property  itself  seemed  of  so  little  value  as  to 
be  regarded  almost  as  an  incumbrance  to  the  plantation 
of  which  it  was  a  part.  Such  was  its  well-established 
reputation  for  poverty  of  soil  that  Desmit  had  no  idea  that 
the  purchaser  would  ever  be  able  to  meet  one  of  his 
notes  for  the  balance  of  the  purchase  money,  and  he 
looked  forward  to  resuming  the  control  of  the  property 
at  no  distant  day,  somewhat  improved  by  the  better 
ments  which  occupancy  and  attempted  use  would  compel 
the  purchaser  to  make.  He  regarded  the  cash  to  be  paid  in 
hand  as  just  so  much  money  accidentally  found  in  his 
pathway,  for  which,  in  no  event,  was  he  to  render  any 
quid  pro  quo.  But  of  this  he  said  nothing.  It  was  not 
his  business  to  look  after  the  interests  of  a  "  sassy  nig 
ger."  In  fact,  he  felt  that  the  money  was  in  a  sense 
due  to  him  on  account  of  the  scurvy  trick  that  Nim 
bus  had  played  him,  in  deserting  to  the  Yankees 
after  agreeing  to  look  after  his  "  niggers"  on  the  breast 
works,  although,  as  the  event  proved,  his  master  would 
have  gained  nothing  by  his  remaining.  So  the  former 
master  and  slave  met  on  the  level  of  barter  and  sale,  and 
gave  and  took  in  the  conflict  of  trade. 

Except  the  small  tract  just  about  the  old  hostel,  which 
has  already  been  mentioned,  the  plantation,  which  in 
cluded  Red  Wing,  was  descended  from  an  ancestor  of  the 
Richards  family,  who  had  come  from  the  North  about  the 
close  of  the  Revolution  and  "  entered  "  an  immense  tract 
in  this  section.  It  had,  however,  passed  out  of  the  family 
by  purchase,  and  about  the  beginning  of  the  war  of  Rebel 
lion  a  life  estate  therein  was  held  by  its  occupant,  while 


TO   HIM  AND   HIS  HEIRS  FOREVER.          119 

the  reversion  belonged  to  certain  parties  in  Indiana  by  vir 
tue  of  the  will  of  a  common  ancestor.  This  life-tenant's 
necessities  compelled  him  to  relinquish  his  estate,  which 
was  bought  by  Colonel  Desmit,  during  the  second  year 
of  the  war,  together  with  the  fee  which  he  had  acquired 
in  the  tract  belonging  to  the  old  Ordinary,  not  because 
he  wanted  the  land  about  Red  Wing,  but  because  the 
plantation  to  which  it  was  attached  was  a  good  one,  and 
he  could  buy  it  on  reasonable  terms  for  Confederate  cur 
rency.  He  expected  to  treat  with  the  Indiana  heirs 
and  obtain  their  respective  interests  in  the  fee,  which  no 
doubt  he  would  have  been  able  to  acquire  very  cheaply 
but  for  the  intevening  accident  of  war,  as  the  life-tenant 
was  yet  of  middle  age  and  the  succession  consequently 
of  little  probable  value  to  living  reversioners.  This, 
however,  he  had  not  done  ;  but  as  his  deed  from  the  life- 
tenant  was  in  form  an  exclusive  and  unlimited  conveyance, 
it  had  been  quite  forgotten  that  the  will  of  his  grand 
father  limited  it  to  a  life  estate.  So  when  Nimbus  and 
his  friend  and  counsellor,  Eliab  Hill,  sought  to  negotiate 
the  purchase  of  Red  Wing,  no  mention  was  made  of  that 
fact ;  neither  was  it  alluded  to  when  they  came  again  to 
conclude  the  purchase,  nor  when  instructions  were  given 
to  Colonel  Desmit's  lawyer  to  prepare  the  necessary 
papers. 

The  trade  was  soon  brought  to  an  apparently  happy 
conclusion.  Nimbus  bought  two  hundred  acres  at  a  price 
of  eight  hundred  dollars,  paying  one  half  the  price 
agreed  upon  in  cash,  and  for  the  balance  gave  three 
notes  of  equal  amounts,  one  maturing  each  year  there 
after,  and  received  from  Colonel  Desmit  a  bond  for  title 
to  the  whole  tract,  with  full  covenants  of  warranty  and 
seizin.  Colonel  Desmit  accounted  the  notes  of  little 
value  ;  Nimbus  prized  the  bond  for  title  above  any 


120  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

patent  of  nobility.  Before  the  first  note  fell  due  all  had 
been  discharged,  and  the  bond  for  title  was  exchanged 
for  a  deed  in  fee,  duly  executed.  So  the  recent  slave, 
who  had  but  lately  been  the  subject  of  barter  and  sale, 
was  clothed  with  the  rights  of  a  proprietor. 

According  to  the  former  law,  the  slave  was  a  sort  of 
chattel-real.  Without  being  attached  to  the  land,  he 
was  transferable  from  one  owner  to  another  only  by 
deed  or  will.  In  some  States  he  descended  as  realty,  in 
others  as  personalty,  while  in  others  still,  he  constituted 
a  separate  kind  cf  heritable  estate,  which  was  especially 
provided  for  in  the  canons  of  descent  and  statutes  regu 
lating  administration.  There  was  even  then  of  record 
in  the  county  of  Horsford  a  deed  of  sale,  bearing  the 
hand  and  seal  of  P.  Desmit,  and  executed  little  more 
than  a  year  previously,  conveying  to  one  Peyton  Win- 
burn  "  all  the  right,  title,  and  interest  of  said  Desmit,  in 
and  to  a  certain  runaway  negro  boy  named  Nimbus." 
The  said  Winburn  was  a  speculator  in  slaves  who  had 
long  been  the  agent  of  Desmit  in  marketing  his  human 
crop,  and  who,  in  the  very  last  hours  of  the  Confederacy, 
was  willing  to  risk  a  few  dollars  on  the  result.  As  he 
well  stated  it  to  himself,  it  was  only  staking  one  form  of 
loss  against  another.  He  paid  Confederate  money  for  a 
runaway  negro.  If  the  Confederacy  failed,  the  negro 
would  be  free  ;  but  then,  too,  the  money  would  be 
worthless.  So  with  grim  humor  he  said  to  himself  that 
he  was  only  changing  the  form  of  his  risk  and  could  not 
possibly  lose  by  the  result.  Thus,  by  implication  of  law, 
the  recent  subject  of  transfer  by  deed  was  elevated  to 
the  dignity  of  being  a  party  thereto.  The  very  instru 
ment  of  his  bondage  became  thereby  the  sceptre  of  his 
power.  It  was  only  an  incident  of  freedom,  but  the 
difference  it  measured  was  infinite. 


TO  HIM  AND  HIS   HEIRS  FOREVER.          1 21 

No  wonder  the  former  slave  trembled  with  elation  as 
he  received  this  emblem  of  autonomy,  or  that  there  was 
a  look  of  gloom  on  the  face  of  the  former  master  as  he 
delivered  the  carefully-enrolled  deed,  made  complete  by 
his  hand  and  seal,  and  attested  by  his  attorney.  It  was 
the  first  time  the  one  had  felt  the  dignity  of  proprietor 
ship,  or  the  other  had  known  the  shame  of  fraud.  The 
one  thought  of  the  bright  future  which  lay  before  his 
children,  to  whom  he  dedicated  Red  Wing  at  that  mo 
ment  in  his  heart,  in  terms  more  solemn  than  the  legal 
phrases  in  which  Potestatem  Desmit  had  guaranteed  to 
them  the  estate  in  fee  therein.  The  other  thought  of  the 
far-away  Indiana  reversioners,  of  whose  rights  none 
knew  aught  save  himself — himself  and  Walter  Greer, 
who  had  gone  away  to  the  wilds  of  Texas,  and  might 
never  be  heard  of  any  more.  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  ever  committed  a  deliberate  fraud,  and  when  he 
handed  the  freedman  the  deed  and  said  sadly,  "  I  never 
expected  to  come  down  to  this,"  those  who  heard  him 
thought  he  meant  his  low  estate,  and  pitied  his  misfor 
tunes.  He  smiled  meaningly  and  turned  hastily  away, 
when  Nimbus,  forgetting  his  own  elation,  said,  in  tones 
of  earnest  feeling  : 

"  I  declar,  Marse  Desmit,  I'se  sorry  fer  you — I  is  dat ; 
an'  I  hopes  yer'll  come  outen  dis  yer  trouble  a  heap 
better  nor  yer's  lookin'  for." 

Then  they  separated — the  one  to  treasure  his  apples  of 
Sodom,  the  other  to  nourish  the  memory  of  his  shame. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    CHILD    OF    THE    HILLS. 

"  COME  at  once  ;  Oscar  very  low/1 

This  was  the  dispatch  which  an  awkward  telegraph 
messenger  handed  to  the  principal  teacher  of  "  No.  5," 
one  soft  September  day  of  1866.  He  waited  upon  the 
rough  stone  step,  while  she,  standing  in  the  doorway,  read 
it  again  and  again,  or  seemed  to  do  so,  as  if  she  could 
not  make  out  the  import  of  the  few  simple  words  it  con 
tained. 

"  No.  5"  was  a  school-house  in  one  of  the  townships 
of  Bankshire  County,  in  the  Commonwealth  of  Massa 
chusetts.  In  it  were  taught  the  children,  within  school 
age,  of  one  of  those  little  hamlets  which  have  crept  up  the 
valleys  of  the  White  Mountains,  toled  on  and  on,  year 
after  year,  farther  and  farther  up  the  little  rivulets  that 
dash  down  the  mountain  slopes,  by  the  rumble  and 
clatter  of  newly-erected  machinery. 

These  mountain  streams  are  the  magic  handiwork  of 
the  nymphs  and  fays  who  for  ages  have  lain  hidden  in 
the  springs  that  burst  out  into  little  lakes  upon  the  birch- 
crowned  summits,  and  come  rushing  and  tumbling  down 
the  rocky  defiles  to  join  the  waters  of  the  Housatuck. 
School-house  No.  5  was  thriftily  placed  on  a  bit 
of  refractory  land  just  opposite  the  junction  of  two 
streams  which  had  their  rise  in  two  lakelets  miles  away 
from  each  other — one  lying  under  the  shadow  of  Pixey 
Mountain,  and  the  other  hidden  among  the  wooded  hills 
of  Birket.  They  were  called  "  ponds,"  but  are,  in 
truth,  great  springs,  in  whose  icy  coldness  the  mountain 
trout  delight. 


A    CHILD   OF    THE   HILLS.  123 

Back  of  the  school-house,  which,  indeed,  was  half  built 
into  it,  was  a  sharp,  rocky  hillside  ;  across  the  road 
which  ran  before  it  was  a  placid  pond,  bordered  on  the 
farther  side  by  a  dark  fringe  of  evergreens  that  lay  be 
tween  it  and  the  wide  expanse  of  white-armed  birches 
and  flaming  maples,  now  beginning  to  feel  the  autumn's 
breath,  on  the  rugged  mountain-side  above.  A  little  to 
the  left  was  the  narrow  gorge  through  which  one  of  the 
streams  discharged,  its  bottom  studded  with  ponds  and 
mills,  and  its  sharp  sides  flecked  with  the  little  white- 
painted  homes  of  well-to-do  operatives  ;  to  the  right  and 
left  along  the  other  branch  and  the  course  of  the  united 
streams,  the  rumble  of  water-wheels,  the  puff  of  laboring 
engines,  and  the  groan  of  tortured  machinery  never 
ceased.  Machine-shops  and  cotton-factoiies,  bagging- 
mills  and  box-mills,  and  wrapping-mills,  and  print-mills, 
and  fine-paper-mills,  and  even  mills  for  the  making  of 
those  filmy  creations  of  marvellous  texture  and  wonderful 
durability  which  become  the  representatives  of  value  in 
the  form  of  bank-notes,  were  crowded  into  the  narrow 
gorges.  The  water  was  fouled  with  chemic  combina 
tions  from  source  to  mouth.  For  miles  up  and  down 
one  hardly  got  a  breath  of  air  untainted  with  the  fumes 
of  chemicals.  Bales  of  rags,  loads  of  straw,  packages  of 
woody  pulp,  boxes  of  ultramarine  dye,  pipes  leading 
from  the  distant  mountain  springs,  and,  above  all,  the 
rumble  and  the  groaning  of  the  beating-engines  told  to 
every  sense  that  this  was  one  of  the  great  hillside  centres 
of  paper-manufacture  in  New  England.  The  elegant 
residences  of  the  owners  were  romantically  situated  on 
some  half-isolated  promonotory  around  which  the  stream 
sweeps,  embowered  with  maples  and  begirt  with  willows 
at  its  base  ;  or  nestled  away  in  some  nook,  moss-lined 
and  hemlock-shaded,  which  marks  where  some  spring 


124  BKICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

brook  bubbles  down  its  brief  career  to  the  larger 
stream  ;  or  in  some  plateau  upon  the  other  side,  backed 
by  a  scraggly  old  orchard,  and  hidden  among  great 
groves  of  rock-maples  which  the  careful  husbandman 
spared  a  hundred  years  ago  fora  "sugar-bush,"  little 
dreaming  that  the  nabobs  of  the  rushing  streams  would 
build  homesteads  beneath  their  shade.  And  all  along, 
here  and  there,  wherever  a  house  could  find  a  foothold 
or  the  native  ruggedness  be  forced  to  yield  one  lodgment, 
houses  and  shops  and  crowded  tenements  stood  thick.  It 
was  a  busy  and  a  populous  village,  full  of  wealth  and  not 
barren  of  poverty,  stretched  along  the  rushing  tributary 
for  more  than  a  mile,  and  then  branching  with  its  con 
stituent  forks  up  into  the  mountain  gorges. 

In  the  very  centre  of  this  busy  whirl  of  life  stood  the 
little  white  two-story  school-house,  flanked  on  one  side 
by  the  dwelling  of  a  mill-owner,  and  on  the  othe;  by  a 
boarding-house  ;  and  just  below  it,  across  the  street,  a 
machine-shop,  and  a  little  cottage  of  cased  logs,  with  mi- 
nute-paned  windows,  and  a  stone  chimney  which  was  built 
before  the  Revolution  by  the  first  inhabitant  of  the  little 
valley.  A  little  to  the  left  of  the  school-house  was  a 
great  granite  boulder,  rising  almost  to  its  eaves,  which 
had  been  loosened  from  ihx,  uiountain-side  two  miles  up 
the  gorge  when  the  dam  at  the  mouth  of  the  pond  gave 
way  years  before  in  a  freshet,  and  brought  down  and  left 
by  the  respectful  torrent  almost  at  the  threshold  of  the 
temple  of  knowledge. 

Such  was  the  scene  the  Indian  summer  sun  looked 
down  upon,  while  the  teacher  stood  gazing  fixedly  at 
the  message  which  she  held.  Curious  facts  peered 
out  of  the  windows  and  through  the  door,  which  she 
left  ajar  when  she  came  into  the  hall.  She  took  no  note 
of  this  infraction  of  discipline. 


A    CHILD   OF    THE  HILLS.  125 

"Any  answer,  ma'am  ?"  The  messenger-boy  shifts 
his  weight  awkwardly  upon  the  other  foot,  as  he  asks, 
but  receives  no  reply. 

For  two  years  Mollie  Ainslie,  with  her  assistants,  had 
dispensed  the  sweets  of  knowledge  at  "  No.  5,"  to  the 
children  of  the  little  hamlet.  The  hazy  morning  light 
revealed  a  small,  lithe  figure,  scarcely  taller  than  the 
messenger-boy  that  stood  before  her ;  a  fair,  white 
face ;  calm,  gray  eyes  ;  hair  with  a  glint  of  golden 
brown,  which  waved  and  rippled  about  a  low,  broad 
brow,  and  was  gathered  in  a  great  shining  coil  be 
hind  ;  and  a  mouth  clear-cut  and  firm,  but  now  drawn 
and  quivering  with  deep  emotion.  The  comely  head 
was  finely  poised  upon  the  slender  neck,  and  in  the 
whole  figure  there  was  an  air  of  self-reliance  and  power 
that  accorded  well  with  the  position  which  she  held. 
A  simple  gray  dress,  with  a  bright  ribbon  at  the  throat 
and  a  bunch  of  autumn  flowers  carelessly  tucked  into 
the  belt  which  circled  the  trim  waist,  completed  the  pic 
ture  framed  in  the  doorway  of  the  white  school-house. 
She  stood,  \\ath  eyes  fastened  on  the  paper  which  she 
held  in  one  hand,  while  the  other  pressed  a  pencil-head 
against  her  cheek,  unmindful  of  the  curious  glances 
that  were  fixed  upon  her  from  within,  until  the  mes 
senger-boy  had  twice  repeated  his  customary  ques 
tion  : 

"  Any  answer,  ma'am  ?" 

She  reached  forth  her  hand,  slowly  and  without  reply. 
The  boy  looked  up  and  saw  that  she  was  gazing  far  be 
yond  him  and  had  a  strained,  fixed  look  in  her  eyes. 

"  Want  a  blank  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone  of  unconscious 
sympathy. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  as  he  put  his  pad  of  blanks 
into  her  outstretched  hand  she  drew  it  back  and  wrote, 


126  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

in    a    slo\v    and    absent    manner,    a    message    in    these 
words  : 

"  To  CAPTAIN  OSCAR  AINSLIE,  Boyleston,  Va. 
"  Coming. 

"  MOLLIE." 

"  Collect  ?"  asked  the  boy. 

"No!" 

She  inquired,  and  paid  the  charges  in  the  same  un 
heeding  way.  The  messenger  departed  with  a  wistful 
glance  at  the  dry,  pained  eyes  which  heeded  him  not. 
With  a  look  of  dumb  entreaty  at  the  overhanging  moun 
tain  and  misty,  Indian  summer  sky,  and  a  half  percepti 
ble  shiver  of  dread,  Mollie  Ainslic  turned  and  entered 
again  the  school-room. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

GOOD-MORROW    AND    FAREWELL. 

A  WEEK  afterward,  Mollie  Ainslie  stood  beside  the 
bed  of  her  only  brother  and  watched  the  sharp,  short 
struggle  which  he  made  with  their  hereditary  enemy, 
consumption.  Weakened  by  wounds  and  exposure, 
he  was  but  ill-prepared  to  resist  the  advances  of  the 
insidious  foe,  and  when  she  reached  his  side  she  saw 
that  the  hope,  even  of  delay,  was  gone.  So  she  took  her 
*  place,  and  with  ready  hand,  brave  heart,  and  steady  pur 
pose,  brightened  his  pathway  to  the  tomb 

Oscar  and  Mollie  Ainslie  were  the  omy  children  of  a 
New  England  clergyman  whose  life  had  lasted  long 
enough,  and  whose  means  had  been  sufficient,  with  the 
closest  economy,  to  educate  them  both  according  to  the 
rigorous  standards  of  the  region  in  which  they  were  born. 


GOOD-MORROW  AND   FAREWELL.  127 

Until  the  son  entered  college  they  had  studied  together, 
and  the  sister  was  almost  as  well  prepared  for  the  univer 
sity  course  as  the  brother  when  they  were  separated. 
Then  she  stepped  out  of  the  race,  and  determined,  though 
scarcely  more  than  a  child,  to  become  herself  a  bread 
winner,  in  order  that  her  father's  meager  salary 
might  be  able  to  meet  the  drain  of  her  brother's 
college  expenses.  She  did  this  not  only  without  mur 
muring,  but  with  actual  pleasure.  Her  ambition,  which 
was  boundless,  centered  upon  her  brother.  She  identified 
herself  with  him,  and  cheerfully  gave  up  every  advan 
tage,  in  order  that  his  opportunities  might  be  more 
complete.  To  Oscar  these  sacrifices  on  his  sister's 
part  were  very  galling.  He  felt  the  wisdom  of  the  course 
pursued  toward  him  by  his  family,  and  was  compelled 
to  accede  in  silence  to  prevent  the  disappointment 
which  his  refusal  would  bring.  Yet  it  was  the  keenest 
trial  for  him  to  think  of  accepting  his  sister's  earnings, 
and  only  the  conviction  that  to  do  so  was  the  quickest 
and  surest  way  to  relieve  her  of  the  burden  of  self-support, 
induced  him  to  submit  to  such  an  arrangement. 

Hardly  had  he  entered  upon  his  college  course  when 
the  war  of  Rebellion  came  on,  arid  Oscar  Ainslie  saw  in 
the  patriotic  excitement  and  the  promise  of  stirring  events 
a  way  out  of  a  situation  whose  fetters  were  too  heavy  for 
him  to  bear  by  reason  of  their  very  tenderness.  He  was 
among  the  first,  therefore,  to  enlist,  happy  thereby  to 
forestall  his  sister's  determination  to  engage  in  teaching, 
for  his  sake.  His  father  was  grieved  at  the  son's  aban 
donment  of  his  projected  career,  but  his  heart  was  too 
patriotic  to  object.  So  he  gave  the  bright-eyed  young 
soldier  his  blessing  as  he  bade  him  good-by,  standing 
there  before  him,  strong  and  trim,  in  his  close-fitting 
cavalry  uniform.  He  knew  that  Oscar's  heart  beat  high 


128  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

with  hope,  and  he  would  not  check  it,  though  he  felt 
sure  that  they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  for  the  last 
time.  When  his  own  were  glazing  over  with  the  ghastly 
grave-light,  more  than  two  years  afterward,  they  were 
gladdened  by  the  announcement  which  came  throbbing 
along  the  wires  and  made  bright  the  whole  printed  page 
from  which  he  read  :  "  Private  Oscar  Ainslie,  promoted 
to  a  Captaincy  for  gallant  conduct  on  the  field  of  Gettys 
burg."  Upon  this  he  rallied  his  fading  energies,  and 
waited  for  a  week  upon  the  very  brink  of  the  chill  river, 
that  he  might  hear,  before  he  crossed  over,  from  the 
young  soldier  himself,  how  this  honor  was  won.  When 
he  had  learned  this  he  fell  asleep,  and  not  long  after,  the 
faithful  wife  who  had  shared  his  toils  and  sacrifices  heard 
the  ceaseless  cry  of  his  lonely  spirit,  and  was  gathered 
again  to  his  arms  upon  the  shore  where  beauty  fadeth  not 
forever. 

The  little  homestead  upon  the  rocky  hillside  overlook 
ing  the  village  was  all  that  was  left  to  the  brother  and  sis 
ter  ;  but  it  was  more  than  the  latter  could  enjoy  alone,  so 
she  fled  away  and  entered  upon  the  vocation  in  which  we 
found  her  engaged.  Meantime  her  brother  had  risen  in 
rank,  and  at  the  close  of  the  war  had  been  transferred  to 
the  regular  army  as  a  reward  of  distinguished  merit.  Then 
his  hereditary  foe  had  laid  siege  to  his  weakened  frame, 
and  a  brother  officer  had  telegraphed  to  the  sister  in  the 
Bankshire  hills  the  first  warning  of  the  coming  end. 

It  was  a  month  after  her  arrival  at  Boyleston,  when  her 
brother,  overcoming  the  infatuation  which  usually  at 
tends  that  disease,  saw  that  the  end  was  near  and  made 
provision  respecting  it. 

"  Sis,"  he  said,  calling  her  by  the  pet  name  of  their 
childhood,  "  what  day  of  the  month  is  it  ?" 


GOODMORROW  AND  FAREWELL.  129 

"  The  thirteenth,  Oscar — your  birthday,"  she  replied 
briskly.  "  Don't  you  see  that  I  have  been  out  and  gath 
ered  leaves  and  flowers  to  decorate  your  room,  in  honor 
of  the  event  ?" 

Her  lap  was  full  of  autumn  leaves — maple  and  gum, 
flaming  and  variegated,  brown  oak  of  various  shapes  and 
shades,  golden  hickory,  the  open  burrs  of  the  chintua- 
pin,  pine  cones,  and  the  dun  scraggly  balls  of  the  black- 
gum,  some  glowing  bunches  of  the  flame-bush,  with  their 
wealth  of  bursting  red  beries,  and  a  full-laden  branch  of 
the  black-haw. 

The  bright  October  sun  shone  through  the  open  win 
dow  upon  her  as  she  arranged  them  with  deft  fingers, 
contrasting  the  various  hues  with  loving  skill,  and  weav 
ing  ornaments  for  diiferent  points  in  the  bare  room  of 
the  little  country  hotel  where  her  brother  lay.  He 
watched  her  awhile  in  silence,  and  then  said  sadly, 

"  Yes,  my  last  birthday." 

Her  lips  trembled,  and  her  head  drooped  lower  over 
her  lap,  but  she  would  not  let  him  see  her  agitation.  So 
she  simply  said, 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Oscar." 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  ought  not  to  say  so.  I  should 
have  said,  my  last  earthly  birthday.  Sit  closer,  Sis, 
where  I  can  see  you  better.  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Do  you  know,"  he  continued,  as  she  came  and  sat 
upon  his  bedside,  spreading  her  many-hued  treasures 
over  the  white  coverlet,  "  that  I  meant  to  have  been  at 
home  to-day  ?" 

"  And  are  you  not  ?"  she  asked  cheerfully.  "  Am  I 
not  with  you  ?" 

'  True,  Sis,  and  you  are  my  home  now  ;  but,  after  all, 
I  did  want  to  see  the  old  New  England  hills  once 
more.  One  yearns  for  familiar  scenes  after  years  of 


13°  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

war.  I  meant  to  have  gone  back  and  brought  you 
here,  away  from  the  cold  winters  that  sting,  and  bite, 
and  kill.  1  hoped  that,  after  rest,  i  might  recover 
strength,  and  that  you  might  here  escape  the  shadow 
which  has  fastened  upon  me." 

"Have  you  seen  my  horse,  Midnight?"  he  asked, 
after  a  fit  of  coughing,  followed  by  a  dreamy  silence. 

44  Yes." 

"  How  do  you  like  him  ?" 

"  He  is  a  magnificent  creature." 

"  Would  he  let  you  approach  him  ?" 

"  I  had  no  trouble  in  doing  so." 

"None?"  He's  very  vicious,  too.  Everybody  has 
had  trouble  with  him.  Do  you  think  you  could  ride 
him  ?" 

"  I  have  ridden  him  every  day  for  two  weeks." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  how  you  have  kept  so  fresh."  Then, 
after  a  pause,  "  Do  you  know  how  I  got  him  ?" 

"  I  heard  that  he  was  captured." 

"Yes,  in  the  very  last  fight  before  the  surrender  at 
Appomatlox.  I  was  with  Sheridan,  you  know.  We 
were  pursuing  the  retreating  columns — had  been  press 
ing  them  hotly  ever  since  the  break  at  Petersburg — 
on  the  rear  and  on  both  flanks,  fighting,  worrying,  and 
watching  all  the  time.  On  the  last  day,  when  the  re 
treat  had  become  a  rout,  as  it  seemed,  a  stand  was  made 
by  a  body  of  cavalry  just  on  the  crest  of  a  smoothly- 
sloping  hill.  Not  anticipating  serious  resistance,  we 
did  not  wait  for  the  artillery  to  come  up  and  dislodge 
them,  but  deploying  a  brigade  we  rode  on,  jesting  and 
gay,  expecting  to  see  them  disperse  when  we  came  within 
range  and  join  the  rabble  beyond.  We  were  mistaken. 
Just  when  we  got  within  easy  charging  distance,  down 
they  came,  pell-mell,  as  dashing  a  body  of  dirty  veterans 


GOOD-MORROW  AND  FAREWELL.  131 

as  I  ever  saw.  The  attack  was  so  unexpected  that  for  a 
time  we  were  swept  off  our  feet  and  fairly  carried  back 
ward  with  surprise.  Then  we  rallied,  and  there  was  a 
sharp,  short  struggle.  The  enemy  retreated,  and  we 
pressed  after  them.  The  man  that  rode  this  horse  seem 
ed  to  have  selected  me  as  his  mark.  He  rode  straight  at 
me  from  the  first.  He  was  a  fine,  manly-looking  fellow, 
and  our  swords  were  about  the  last  that  were  crossed  in 
the  struggle.  We  had  a  sharp  tussle  for  a  while.  I 
think  he  must  have  been  struck  by  a  chance  shot.  At 
least  he  was  unseated  just  about  the  time  my  own  horse 
was  shot  under  me.  Looking  around  amid  the  confu 
sion  I  saw  this  horse  without  a  rider.  1  was  in  mortal 
terror  of  being  trampled  by  the  shifting  squadrons  and 
did  not  delay,  but  sprang  into  the  saddle  and  gave  him 
the  spur.  When  the  Confederate  bugles  sounded  the 
retreat  I  had  a  terrible  struggle  to  keep  him  from  obey 
ing  orders  and  carrying  me  away  into  their  lines.  After 
that,  however,  I  had  no  trouble  with  him.  But  he  is  not 
kind  to  strangers,  as  a  rule.  I  meant  to  have  taken  him 
home  to  you,"  he  added,  sadly.  "  You  will  have  him 
now,  and  will  prize  him  for  my  sake,  will  you  not,  Sis  ?" 

'  You  know,  Oscar,  that  everything  you  have  ever 
loved  or  used  will  be  held  sacred,"  she  answered  tear 
fully. 

'  Yes,    I   know,"   he   rejoined.       "  Sis,    I    wish    you 
would  make  me  a  promise." 
"  You  know  I  will." 

"  Well,  then,  do  not  go  back  to  our  old  home  this 
winter,  nor  the  next,  nor — but  I  will  not  impose  terms 
upon  you.  Stay  as  long  as  you  can  content  yourself 
in  this  region.  I  am  afraid  for  you.  I  know  you 
are  stronger  and  have  less  of  the  consumptive  taint 
about  you  than  I,  but  I  am  afraid.  You  would  have 


132  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

worked  for  me  when  I  was  in  college,  and  I  have  worked 
only  for  you,  since  that  time.  All  that  I  have  saved — and 
I  have  saved  all  I  could,  for  I  knew  that  my  time  was 
not  long — is  yours.  I  have  some  money  on  deposit, 
some  bonds,  and  a  few  articles  of  personal  property — 
among  the  latter,  Midnight.  All  these  are  yours.  It  will 
leave  you  comfortable  for  a  time  at  least.  Now,  dear, 
promise  that  I  shall  be  buried  and  remain  in  the  ceme 
tery  the  Government  is  making  for  the  soldiers  who  fell 
in  those  last  battles.  Somehow,  I  think  it  will  keep  you 
here,  in  order  that  you  may  be  near  me,  and  save  you 
from  the  disease  which  is  devouring  my  life." 

A  week  afterward  his  companions  followed,  with  re- 
ver  ed  arms,  the  funereally-caparisoned  Midnight  to  the 
grounds  of  the  National  Cemetery,  and  fired  a  salute 
over  a  new-made  grave. 

Nimbus,  taking  with  him  his  helpless  friend,  had  ap 
pealed,  soon  after  his  purchase,  to  the  officer  of  the 
Bureau  for  aid  in  erecting  a  school-house  at  Red  Wing. 
By  him  he  had  been  referred  to  one  of  those  charitable 
associations,  through  whose  benign  agency  the  great 
hearted  North  poured  its  free  bounty  into  the  South 
immediately  upon  the  cessation  of  strife. 

Perhaps  there  has  been  no  grander  thing  in  our  history 
than  the  eager  generosity  with  which  the  Christian  men 
and  women  of  the  North  gave  and  wrought,  to  bring  the 
boon  of  knowledge  to  the  recently-enslaved.  As  the  North 
gave,  willingly  and  freely,  men  and  millions  to  save  the 
nation  from  disruption,  so,  when  peace  came,  it  gave  other 
brave  men  and  braver  women,  and  other  unstinted  mill 
ions  to  strengthen  the  hands  which  generations  of  slavery 
had  left  feeble  and  inept.  Not  only  the  colored,  but  the 
white  also,  were  the  recipients  of  this  bounty.  The 


GOOD-MORROW  A. YD   FAREWELL.  133 

Queen  City  of  the  Confederacy,  the  proud  capital  of  the 
commonwealth  of  Virginia,  saw  the  strange  spectacle  of 
her  own  white  children  gathered,  for  the  first  time, 
into  free  public  schools  which  were  supported  by  North 
ern  charity,  and  taught  by  noble  women  with  whom  her 
high-bred  Christian  dames  and  dainty  maidens  would  not 
deign  to  associate.  The  civilization  of  the  North  in  the 
very  hour  of  victory  threw  aside  the  cartridge-box,  and 
appealed  at  once  to  the  contribution-box  to  heal  the 
ravages  of  war.  At  the  door  of  every  church  through 
out  the  North,  the  appeal  was  posted  for  aid  to  open  the 
eyes  of  the  blind  whose  limbs  had  just  been  unshackled  ; 
and  the  worshipper,  as  he  gave  thanks  for  his  rescued 
land,  brought  also  an  offering  to  aid  in  curing  the 
ignorance  which  slavery  had  produced. 

It  was  the  noblest  spectacle  that  Christian  civilization 
has  ever  witnessed — thousands  of  schools  organized  in 
the  country  of  a  vanquished  foe,  almost  before  the 
smoke  of  battle  had  cleared  away,  free  to  the  poorest  of 
her  citizens,  supported  by  the  charity,  and  taught  by 
kindly-hearted  daughters  of  a  quick-forgiving  enemy. 
The  instinct  of  our  liberty-loving  people  taught  them 
that  light  must  go  with  liberty,  knowledge  with  power, 
to  give  either  permanence  or  value.  Thousands  of 
white-souled  angels  of  peace,  the  tenderly-reared  and 
highly-cultured  daughters  of  many  a  Northern  home, 
came  into  the  smitten  land  to  do  good  to  its  poorest 
and  weakest.  Even  to  this  day,  two  score  of  schools 
and  colleges  remain,  the  glorious  mementoes  of  this 
enlightened  bounty  and  Christian  magnanimity. 

And  how  did  the  white  brothers  and  sisters  of 
these  messengers  of  a  matchless  benevolence  receive 
them  ?  Ah,  God  !  how  sad  that  history  should  be  com 
pelled  to  make  up  so  dark  a  record — abuse,  contumely, 


134  £R7CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

violence  !  Christian  tongues  befouled  with  calumny  ! 
Christian  lips  blistered  with  falsehood  !  Christian 
hearts  overflowing  with  hate  !  Christian  pens  reeking 
with  ridicule  because  other  Christians  sought  to  do  their 
needy  fellows  good  !  No  wonder  that  faith  grew  weak 
and  unbelief  ran  not  through  all  the  land  when  men 
looked  upon  the  spectacle  !  The  present  may  excuse, 
for  charity  is  kind  ;  but  the  future  is  inexorable  and 
writes  its  judgments  with  a  pen  hard-nibbed  !  But  let 
us  not  anticipate.  In  thousands  of  Northern  homes 
still  live  to  testify  these  devoted  sisters  and  daughters, 
now  grown  matronly.  They  are  scattered  through  every 
state,  almost  in  every  hamlet  of  the  North,  while  other 
thousands  have  gone,  with  the  sad  truth  carved  deep  upon 
their  souls,  to  testify  in  that  court  where  "  the  action  lies 
in  its  true  nature." 

Nimbus  found  men  even  more  ready  to  assist  than  he 
and  his  fellows  were  to  be  aided.  He  himself  gave  the 
land  and  the  timbers  ;  the  benevolent  association  to  whom 
he  had  appealed  furnished  the  other  materials  required  ; 
the  colored  men  gave  the  major  part  of  the  labor,  and, 
in  less  than  a  year  from  the  time  the  purchase  was  made, 
the  house  was  ready  for  the  school,  and  the  old  hostelry 
prepared  for  the  teachers  that  had  been  promised. 

So  it  was  that,  when  Nimbus  came  to  the  officer  in 
charge  at  Boyleston  and  begged  that  a  teacher  might  be 
sent  to  Red  Wing,  and  met  the  reply  that  because  of  the 
great  demand  they  had  none  to  send,  Mollie  Ainslie, 
hearing  of  the  request,  with  her  load  of  sorrow  yet 
heavy  on  her  lonely  heart,  said,  "  Here  am  I  ;  take 
me."  She  thought  it  a  holy  work.  It  was,  to  her  simple 
heart,  a  love-offering  to  the  memory  of  him  who  had 
given  his  life  to  secure  the  freedom  of  the  race  she  was 
asked  to  aid  in  lifting  up.  The  gentle  child  felt  called 


GOOD-MORROW  AND   FAREWELL.  135 

of  God  to  do  missionary  work  for  a  weak  and  struggling 
people.  She  thought  she  felt  the  divine  commandment 
which  rested  on  the  Nazarene.  She  did  not  stop  to  consid 
er  of  the  "  impropriety"  of  her  course.  She  did  not  even 
know  that  there  wasany^impropriety  in  it.  She  thought 
her  heart  had  heard  the  trumpet-call  of  duty,  and,  like 
Joan  of  Arc,  though  it  took  her  among  camps  and  dangers, 
she  would  not  flinch.  So  Nimbus  returned  happy  ;  an  offi 
cer  was  sent  to  examine  the  location  and  report.  Mollie, 
mounted  upon  Midnight,  accompanied  him.  Of  course, 
this  fact  and  her  unbounded  delight  at  the  quaint  beauty 
of  Red  Wing  was  no  part  of  the  reason  why  Lieutenant 
Hamilton  made  a  most  glowing  report  on  the  location  ; 
but  it  was  owing  to  that  report  that  the  officer  at  the 
head  of  the  "  Bureau"  in  that  district,  the  department- 
commander,  and  finally  the  head  of  the  Bureau,  Gen 
eral  Howard  himself,  indorsed  the  scheme  most  warmly 
and  aided  it  most  liberally.  So  that  soon  afterward  the 
building  was  furnished  as  a  school-house,  Mollie  Ainslie, 
with  Lucy  Ellison,  an  old  schoolmate,  as  her  assistant,  was 
installed  at  the  old  hostlery,  and  bore  sway  in  the  school 
of  three  hundred  dusky  pupils  which  assembled  daily  at 
Red  Wing.  Midnight  was  given  royal  quarters  in  the 
old  log-stable,  which  had  been  re-covered  and  almost 
rebuilt  for  his  especial  delectation,  the  great  square  stall, 
with  its  bed  of  dry  oak  leaves,  in  which  he  stood  knee- 
deep,  being  sufficient  to  satisfy  even  Miss  Mollie's  fastid 
ious  demands  for  the  comfort  of  her  petted  steed. 
After  a  time  Eliab  Hill,  to  whose  suggestion  the  whole 
plan  was  due.  became  also  an  assistant  instructor. 

Mollie  Ainslie  did  not  at  all  realize  the  nature  of  the 
task  she  had  undertaken,  or  the  burden  of  infamy  and 
shame  which  a  Christian  people  would  heap  upon  her 
because  of  this  kindly-meant  work  done  in  their  midst  ! 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

l<  P  R  I  M  E     WRAP  P  F.  R  S  .  " 

IT  was  more  than  a  year  afterward.  Quite  a  little 
village  had  grown  up  around  the  church  and  school- 
house  at  Red  Wing,  inhabited  by  colored  men  who  had 
been  attracted  thither  by  the  novelty  of  one  of  their  own 
members  being  a  proprietor.  Encouraged  by  his  ex 
ample,  one  and  another  had  bought  parcels  of  his  domain, 
until  its  size  was  materially  reduced  though  its  value  was 
proportionately  enhanced.  Those  who  settled  here  were 
mostly  mechanics — carpenters  and  masons — who  worked 
here  and  there  as  they  could  find  employment,  a  black 
smith  who  wrought  for  himself,  and  some  farm  laborers 
who  dreaded  the  yearly  system  of  hire  as  too  nearly  al 
lied  to  the  Slave  regime,  and  so  worked  by  the  day  upon 
the  neighboring  plantations.  One  or  two  bought  some 
what  larger  tracts,  intending  to  imitate  the  course  of 
Nimbus  and  raise  the  fine  tobacco  for  which  the  lo 
cality  was  already  celebrated.  All  had  built  cheap 
log-houses,  but  their  lots  were  well  fenced  and  their 
"  truck-patches"  clean  and  thrifty,  and  the  little  ham 
let  was  far  from  being  unattractive,  set  as  it  was  in  the 
midst  of  the  green  forests  which  belted  it  about.  From 
the  plantations  on  either  side,  the  children  flocked  to  the 
school.  So  that  when  the  registering  officer  and  the  sheriff 
rode  into  the  settlement,  a  few  days  after  the  registration 
at  Melton,  it  presented  a  thriving  and  busy  spectacle. 

Upon  the  hillside,  back  of  his  house,  Nimbus,  his 
wife,  and  two  men  whom  he  had  employed  were  engaged 
in  cutting  the  tobacco  which  waved — crinkled  and 
rank,  with  light  yellowish  spots  showing  here  and  there 

136 


"PRIME   WRAPPERS"  137 

upon  the  great  leaves — a  billow  of  green  in  the  autumn 
wind.  The  new-comers  halted  and  watched  the  process 
for  a  moment  as  they  rode  up  to  the  barn,  while  the 
sheriff  explained  to  the  unfamiliar  Northman  : 

'  This  is  the  first  cutting,  as  it  is  called.  They  only 
take  out  the  ripest  this  time,  and  leave  the  rest  for  another 
cutting,  a  week  or  two  later.  You  see,  he  goes  through, 
there,"  pointing  to  Nimbus,  "  and  picks  out  the  ripe,  yel 
low-looking  plants.  Then  he  sets  his  knife  in  at  the  top 
of  the  stalk  where  it  has  been  broken  off  to  prevent  its 
running  up  to  seed,  and  splits  it  down  almost  to  the 
ground  ;  then  he  cuts  the  stalk  off  below  the  split,  and 
it  is  ready  to  be  hung  on  the  thin  narrow  strips  of  oak, 
which  you  see  stuck  up  here  and  there,  where  the  cutting 
has  been  done.  They  generally  put  from  seven  to  ten 
plants  on  a  stick,  according  to  the  size  of  the  plants  ; 
so  that  the  number  of  sticks  makes  a  very  accurate 
measure  of  the  size  of  the  crop,  and  an  experienced 
hand  can  tell  within  a  few  pounds  the  weight  of  any 
bulk  of  tobacco  by  simply  counting  the  sticks." 

They  rode  up  to  the  barn  and  found  it  already  half 
full  of  tobacco.  Nimbus  came  and  showed  the  officer 
how  the  sticks  were  laid  upon  beams  placed  at  proper 
intervals,  the  split  plants  hanging  tops  downward,  close 
together,  but  not  touching  each  other.  The  upper  por 
tions  of  the  barn  were  first  filled  and  then  the  lower 
tiers,  until  the  tobacco  hung  within  two  or  three  feet  of 
the  bottom.  The  barn  itself  was  made  of  logs,  the  in 
terstices  closely  chinked  and  daubed  with  clay,  so  as  to 
make  it  almost  air-tight.  Around  the  building  on  the 
inside  ran  a  large  stone  flue,  like  a  chimney  laid  on  the 
ground.  Outside  was  a  huge  pile  of  wood  and  a  liberal 
supply  of  charcoal.  Nimbus  thus  described  the  process 
of  curing  : 


1 3 8  JiKICA'S  WITHO U T  S TRA  U'. 

1  Yer  see,  Capting,  we  fills  de  barn  chock  full,  an' 
then  shets  it  up  fer  a  day  or  two,  'cording  terde  weather, 
sometimes  wid  a  slow  fire  an'  sometimes  wid  none,  till 
it  begins  ter  sweat— git  moist,  yer  know.  Den  we  knows 
it's  in  order  ter  begin  de  curin',  an'  we  puts  on  mo'  fire, 
an'  mo,'  an'  mo',  till  de  whole  house  gits  hot  an'  de 
leaves  begins  ter  hev  a  ha'sh,  rough  feel  about  de  edges, 
an'  now  an'  den  one  begins  ter  yaller  up.  Den  we 
raises  de  heat  jes  ze  fast  ez  we  kin  an'  not  fire  de  barn. 
Some  folks  uses  de  flues  alone  an'  some  de  coal  alone, 
but  I  mostly  'pends  on  de  flues  wid  a  few  heaps  of  coal 
jes  here  an'  dar  'bout  de  flo',  at  sech  a  time,  kase  ebery- 
ting  'pends  on  a  even  reg'lar.  heat  dat  you  kin  manage 
good.  Den  you  keeps  watch  on  it  mighty  close  an' 
don't  let  it  git  too  hot  nor  yet  fail  ter  be  hot  'nough,  but 
jes  so  ez  ter  keep  it  yallerin'  up  nicely.  When  de 
leaves  is  crisp  an'  light  so  dat  dey  rustles  roun'  in  de 
drafts  like  dead  leaves  in  the  fall,  yer  know,  it's  cured  ;  an' 
all  yer's  got  ter  du  den  is  ter  dry  out  de  stems  an'  stalks. 
Dat's  got  ter  be  done,  tho,'  kase  ef  yer  leaves  enny 
bit  ob  it  green  an'  sappy-like,  fust  ting  yer  knows  when 
it  comes  in  order — dat  is,  gits  damp  an'  soft— de  green 
runs  outen  de  stems  down  inter  de  leaves  an'  jes  streaks 
'em  all  ober,  or  p'raps  it  turns  de  fine  yaller  leaf  a  dull 
greenish  brown.  So  yer's  got  ter  keep  up  yer  fire  till 
every  stalk  an'  stem'll  crack  like  a  pipe-stem  ez  soon  ez 
yer  bends  'em  up.  Den  yer  lets  de  fire  go  down  an' 
opens  der  do'  fer  it  ter  come  in  order,  so't  yer  kin  bulk 
it  down." 

14  What  do  you  mean  by  '  bulking  it  down  '  ?" 

"  Put  it  in  bulk,  like  dis  yer,"   said  he,  pointing  to  a 

pile  of  sticks  laid  crosswise  of  each  other  with  the  plants 

still   on   them,  and  carefully  covered    to   keep  out  the 

weather.     "Yer  see,"  he  continued,   "  dis  answers  two 


"PRIME   WRAPPERS."  139 

pu'poses  ;  fust  yergits  yer  barn  empty  an'  uses  it  again. 
Den  de  weather  don't  git  in  ter  signify,  yer  know,  an' 
so  it  don't  come  inter  order  anymore  an'  color  up  wid  de 
wet  ;  dat  is,  'less  yer  leaves  it  too  long  or  de  wedder 
is  mighty  damp." 

"  Oh,  he  knows,"  said  the  sheriff,  with  a  ring  of 
pride  in  his  voice.  "  Nimbus  was  raised  in  a  tobacco- 
field,  and  knows  as  much  as  anybody  about  it.  How 
did  your  first  barn  cure  up,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  Right  bright  and  even,  sah,"  answered  the  colored 
man,  as  he  thrust  his  hand  under  the  boards  spread  over 
the  bulk  near  which  he  stood,  and  drew  out  a  few  leaves, 
which  he  smoothed  out  carefully  and  handed  to  his  visit 
ors.  "  I  got  it  down  in  tol'able  fa'r  order,  too,  atter  de 
rain  t'odder  evenin'.  Dunno  ez  I  ebber  handled  a  barn 
thet,  take  it  all  round,  -haved  better  er  come  out  fa'rer 
in  my  life — mighty  good  color  an'  desp'utfew  lugs.  Yer 
see,  I  got  it  cut  jes  de  right  time,  an'  de  weather 
couldn't  hev  ben  better  ef  I'd  hed  it  made  ter  order." 

The  sheriff  stretched  a  leaf  to  its  utmost  width,  held 
it  up  to  the  sunshine,  crumpled  it  between  his  great 
palms,  held  it  to  his  face  and  drew  a  long  breath  through 
it,  rubbed  the  edges  between  thumb  and  finger,  pinched 
the  stem  with  his  thumb-nail  till  it  broke  in  half  a  dozen 
places,  and  remarked  with  enthusiasm,  to  the  Northern 
man,  who  stood  rubbing  and  smelling  of  the  sample  he 
held,  in  awkward  imitation  of  one  whom  he  recognized 
as  a  connoisseur  : 

"  That's  prime  terbacker,  Captain.  If  it  runs  like 
that  through  the  bulk  and  nothing  happens  to  it  before 
it  gets  to  the  warehouse,  it'll  bring  a  dollar  a  pound, 
easy.  You  don't  often  see  such  terbacker  any  year, 
much  less  such  a  one  as  this  has  been.  Didn't  it  ripen 
mighty  uneven,  Nimbus  ?" 


140  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Jest  about  ez  it  oughter — a  little  'arlier  on  the  hill 
top  an'  dry  places  'long  de  sides,  an'  den  gradwally 
down  ter  de  moister  places.  Dar  wa'n't  much  ob  dat 
pesky  spotted  lipenin'  up — jes  a  plant  h'yeran'  anodder 
dar,  all  in  'mong  de  green,  but  jest  about  a  good  barn- 
full  in  tollable  fa'r  patches,  an'  den  anoddei  comin'  right 
on  atter  it.  I'll  hev  it  full  agin  an'  fire  up  by  to-morrer 
evenin'." 

"  Do  you  hang  it  right  up  after  cutting  ?"  asked  the 
officer. 

"  Wai,  we  mout  do  so.  Tain't  no  hurt  ter  do  it 
dat  er  way,  only  it  handles  better  ter  let  it  hang  on  de 
sticks  a  while  an'  git  sorter  wilted — don't  break  de 
leaves  off  ner  mash  'em  up  so  much  loadin'  an'  unload- 
in',  yer  know,"  answered  Nimbus. 

"  How  much  have  you  got  here  ?"  asked  the  sheriff, 
casting  his  eye  over  the  field  ;  "  forty  thousand  ?" 

"  Wai,"  said  Nimbus,  "  I  made  up  sixty  thousand 
hills,  but  I  hed  ter  re-set  some  on  'em.  I  s'pose  it'll 
run  somewhere  between  fifty  an'  sixty  thousand." 

"  A  right  good  crop,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  I  doubt  if 
any  man  in  the  county  has  got  a  better,  take  it  all 
'round." 

"  I  don't  reckon  ther's  one  wukked  enny  harder  fer 
•what  he's  got,"  said  the  colored  man  quietly. 

"  No,  I'll  guarantee  ther  hain't,"  said  the  other,  laugh 
ing.  "  Nobody  ever  accused  you  of  being  lazy,  Nim 
bus.  They  only  fault  you  fer  being  too  peart." 

"  All  'cause  I  wants  my  own,  an'  wuks  fer  it,  an' 
axes  nobody  enny  odds,  but  only  a  fa'r  show — a  white 
man's  chance  ter  git  along,"  responded  Nimbus,  with  a 
touch  of  defiance  in  his  tone. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  sheriff  good-naturedly,  "I 
won't  never  fault  ye  for  that,  but  they  do  say  you're  the 


"PRIME  WRAPPERS:'  141 

only  man,  white  er  black,  that  ever  got  ahead  of  Potern 
Desmit  in  a  trade  yet.  How's  that,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  I  paid  him  all  he  axed,"  said  the  colored  man,  evi 
dently  flattered  by  this  tribute  to  his  judgment  as  to  the 
value  of  Red  Wing.  "  Kase  white  folks  won't  see  good 
fme-terbacker  Ian'  when  dey  walks  ober  it,  tain't  my 
fault,  is  it  ?" 

"  No  more  tain't,  Nimbus  ;  but  don't  yer  s'pose  yer 
Marse  Potem's  smartly  worried  over  it  ?" 

"  La,  no,  I  reckon  not.  He  don't  'pear  ter  be,  enny- 
how.  He  war  by  here  when  I  was  curin'  up  dis  barn, 
an'  stopped  in  an'  looked  at  it,  an'  axed  a  power  ob 
questions,  an'  got  Lugena  ter  bring  him  out  some  butter 
milk  an'  a  corn  pone.  Den  he  went  up  an!  sot  an  hour 
in  de  school  an'  sed  ez  how  he  war  mighty  proud  ter  see 
one  of  his  ole  nigga's  gittin'  on  dat  er  way." 

"  Wai,  now,  that  was  kind  of  him,  wasn't  it  ?" 

"  Dat  it  war,  sah,  an'  hit  done  us  all  a  power  ob  good, 
too.  Hev  you  ebber  ben  ter  de  school,  Mr.  Sheriff  ? 
No  ?  wal,  yer  oughter  ;  an'  you,  too,  Capting.  Dai's  a 
little  Yankee  woman,  Miss  Mollie  Ainslie,  a  runnin'  ob  it, 
dat  do  beat  all  curration  fer  managin'  tings.  I'd  neb- 
ber'd  got  long  so  h'yer,  not  by  no  means,  ez  I  hez,  but 
fer  her  advice — her'n  an'  'Liab's,  gentlemen.  Dar  she 
am  now,"  he  added,  as  a  slight  figure,  mounted  on  a 
powerful  black  horse,  and  dressed  in  a  dark  riding-habit, 
with  a  black  plume  hanging  from  a  low-crowned  felt 
hat,  came  out  of  the  woods  below  and  cantered  easily 
along  the  road  a  hundred  yards  away,  toward  the 
school-house.  The  visitors  watched  her  curiously,  and 
expressed  a  desire  to  visit  the  school.  Nimbus  said  that 
if  they  would  walk  on  slowly  he  would  go  by  the  house 
and  get  his  coat  and  overtake  them  before  they  reached 
the  school-house. 


142  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STKAW. 

As  they  walked  along  the  sheriff  said, 

"  Did  you  notice  the  horse  that  Yankee  schoolmarm 
rode  ?' ' 

"  I  noticed  that  it  was  a  very  fine  one,"  was  the  reply. 

"  I  should  think  it  was.  I  haven't  seen  a  horse  in  an 
age  that  reminded  me  so  much  of  the  one  I  was  telling  you 
about  that  Hesden  Le  Moyne  used  to  have.  He  is  fuller 
and  heavier,  but  if  I  was  not  afraid  of  making  Hesden  mad 
I  would  rig  him  about  a  nigger-teacher's  riding  his  horse 
around  the  country.  Of  course  it's  not  the  same,  but 
it  would  be  a  good  joke,  only  Hesden  Le  Moyne  is  not 
exactly  the  man  one  wants  to  start  a  joke  on." 

When  they  arrived  at  the  school-house  they  found  that 
Mollie  Ainslie  had  changed  hei  habit  and  was  now 
standing  by  the  desk  on  the  platform  in  the  main  room, 
clad  in  a  neat  half-mourning  dress,  well  adapted  to  the 
work  of  the  school-room,  quiet  and  composed,  tapping 
her  bell  to  reduce  to  order  the  many-hued  crowd  of 
scholars  of  all  ages  and  sizes  who  were  settling  into  their 
places  preparatory  to  the  morning  roll-call.  Nimbus 
took  his  visitors  up  the  broad  aisle,  through  an  avenue 
of  staring  eyes,  and  introduced  them  awkwardly,  but 
proudly,  to  the  self-collected  little  figure  on  the  plat 
form.  She  in  turn  presented  to  them  her  assistant, 
Miss  Lucy  Ellison,  a  blushing,  peach-cheeked  little 
Northern  beauty,  and  Eliab  Hill,  now  advanced  to 
the  dignity  of  an  assistant  also,  who  sat  near  her  on  the 
platform.  The  sheriff  nodded  awkwardly  to  the  ladies, 
as  if  doubtful  how  much  deference  it  would  do  to  dis 
play,  said,  "  How  d'ye,  'Liab  ?'  to  the  crippled  colored 
man,  laid  his  saddle-bags  on  the  floor,  and  took  the 
chair  assigned  to  him.  The  Northern  man  greeted  the 
young  ladies  with  apparent  pleasure  and  profound  re 
spect,  shook  hands  with  the  colored  man,  calling  him 


WRAPPERS:'  143 

"Mister"  Hill,  and  before  sitting  down  looked  out  on 
the  crowded  school  with  evident  surprise. 

Before  proceeding  with  the  roll-call  Miss  Ainslie  took 
the  large  Bible  which  lay  upon  her  desk,  and  approach 
ing  the  gentlemen  said  : 

"It  is  our  custom  every  morning  to  read  a  portion  of 
the  Scripture  and  offer  prayer.  We  should  be  glad  if 
either  of  you  would  conduct  these  exercises  for  us." 

Both  declined,  the  sheriff  with  some  confusion,  and 
the  other  remarking  that  he  desired  to  see  the  school 
going  on  as  if  he  were  not  present,  in  order  that  he 
might  the  better  observe  its  exercises. 

Miss  Ainslie  returned  to  her  desk,  called  the  roll  of  a 
portion  of  the  scholars,  and  then  each  of  her  assistants 
called  the  names  of  those  assigned  to  their  charge.  A  se 
lection  from  the  Scripture  was  next  read  by  the  precep 
tress,  a  hymn  sung  under  her  lead  with  great  spirit  and 
correctness,  and  then  Eliab  Hill,  clasping  his  hands, 
said,  "  Let  us  pray."  The  whole  school  knelt,  the  la 
dies  bowed  their  heads  upon  the  desk,  and  Eliab  offered 
an  appropriate  prayer,  in  which  the  strangers  were  not 
forgotten,  but  were  each  kindly  and  fitly  commended  to 
the  Divine  care.  Then  there  was  an  impromptu  exami 
nation  of  the  school.  Each  of  the  teachers  heard  a  class 
recite,  there  was  more  singing,  with  other  agreeable  ex 
ercises,  and  it  was  noon  before  the  visitors  thought  of 
departing.  Then  they  were  invited  to  dine  with  the 
lady  teachers  at  the  old  Ordinary,  and  would  have  de 
clined,  on  the  ground  that  they  must  go  on  to  the  next 
precinct,  but  Nimbus,  who  had  been  absent  for  an  hour, 
now  appeared  and  brought  word  that  the  table  was 
spread  on  the  porch  under  the  great  oak,  and  their  horses 
already  cared  for  ;  so  that  excuse  would  evidently  be 
useless.  The  sheriff  was  very  uneasy,  but  the  other 


144  B KICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

seemed  by  no  means  displeased  at  the  delay.  However, 
the  former  recovered  when  he  saw  the  abundant  repast, 
and  told  many  amusing  stories  of  the  old  hostel.  At 
length  he  said  : 

44  That  is  a  fine  horse  you  rode  this  morning,  Miss 
Ainslie.  May  I  ask  to  whom  it  belongs  ?" 

*  To  me,  of  course,"  replied  the  lady,  in  some  sur 
prise. 

44  I  did  not  know,"  replied  the  sheriff,  slightly  con 
fused.  44  Have  you  owned  him  long  ?" 

14  Nearly  two  years,  she  answered." 

44  Indeed  ?  Somehow  I  can't  get  it  out  of  my  head 
that  I  have  seen  him  before,  while  I  am  quite  sure  I 
never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  until  to-day." 

41  Quite  likely, "  she  answered  ;  "Nimbus  sometimes 
rides  him  into  Melton  for  the  mail." 

44  No,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head,  "that  is  not  it. 
But,  no  matter,  he's  a  fine  horse,  and  if  you  leave  here  or 
wish  to  sell  him  at  any  time,  I  hope  you  will  remem 
ber  and  give  me  a  first  chance." 

He  was  astonished  at  the  result  of  his  harmless  pro 
posal. 

44  Sir,"  said  the  little  lady,  her  gray  eyes  filling  and 
her  voice  choking  with  emotion,  "  that  was  my  only 
brother's  favorite  horse.  He  rode  him  in  the  army,  and 
gave  him  to  me  when  he  died.  No  money  could  buy 
him  under  any  circumstances." 

44  Beg  pardon,"  said  the  sheriff  ;  44  I  had  no  idea — I 
—ah—" 

To  relieve  his  embarrassment  the  officer  brought  for 
ward  the  special  object  of  his  visit  by  stating  that  it  was 
thought  desirable  to  establish  a  voting  precinct  at  Red 
Wing  for  the  coming  election,  if  a  suitable  place  to  hold 
the  election  could  be  found,  and  asked  if  the  school- 


WRAPPERS:'  145 

house  could  be  obtained  for  that  purpose.  A  lively  con 
versation  ensued,  in  which  both  gentlemen  set  forth  the 
advantages  of  the  location  to  the  voters  of  that  section. 
Miss  Ellison  seemed  to  favor  it,  but  the  little  lady  who 
was  in  charge  only  asked  questions  and  looked  thought 
ful.  When  at  length  her  opinion  was  directly  asked,  she 
said  : 

"  I  had  heard  of  this  proposal  through  both  Mr.  Hill 
and  Nimbus,  and  I  must  say  I  quite  agree  with  the  view 
taken  by  the  former.  If  it  were  necessary  in  order  to 
secure  the  exercise  of  their  rights  by  the  colored  men  I 
would  not  object  ;  but  I  cannot  see  that  it  is.  It  would, 
of  course,  direct  even  more  attention  to  our  school,  and 
I  do  not  think  the  feeling  toward  us  among  our  white 
neighbors  is  any  too  kindly  now.  We  have  received  no 
serious  ill-treatment,  it  is  true,  but  this  is  the  first  time  any 
white  person  has  ventured  into  our  house.  I  don't 
think  that  anything  should  be  done  to  excite  unnecessary 
antipathy  which  might  interfere  with  what  I  must  con 
sider  the  most  important  element  of  the  colored  man's 
development,  the  opportunity  for  education." 

4<  Why,  they  hold  the  League  meetings  there,  don't 
they?"  asked  the  sheriff,  with  a  twinkle  which  ques 
tioned  her  sincerity. 

11  Certainly,"  she  answered  calmly.  "  At  least  I  gave 
them  leave  to  do  so,  and  have  no  doubt  they  do.  I  con 
sider  that  necessary.  The  colored  men  should  be  en 
couraged  to  consider  and  discuss  political  affairs  and  de 
cide  in  regard  to  them  from  their  own  standpoint.  The 
League  gives  them  this  opportunity.  It  seems  to  be  a 
quiet  and  orderly  gathering.  They  are  all  colored  men 
of  the  same  way  of  thought,  in  the  main,  and  it  is  car 
ried  on  entirely  by  them  ;  at  least,  such  is  the  case  here, 
and  I  consider  the  practice  which  it  gives  in  the  discus- 


146  JlMCfCS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

sion  of  public  affairs  and  the  conduct  of  public  assem 
blies  as  a  most  valuable  training  for  the  adults  who  will 
never  have  a  chance  to  learn  otherwise." 

"  I  think  Nimbus  is  in  favor  of  having  the  election 
here,"  said  Captain  Pardee. 

"  No  doubt,"  she  replied.  "  So  are  they  all,  and 
they  have  been  very  pressing  in  their  importunity — all 
except  Mr.  Hill.  They  are  proud  of  their  school  and 
the  building,  which  is  the  joint  product  of  their  own  la 
bor  and  the  helpfulness  of  Northern  friends,  and  are 
anxious  for  every  opportunity  to  display  their  unex 
pected  prosperity.  It  is  very  natural,  but  I  think  un 
wise.  ' ' 

"Nimbus  owns  the  land,  don't  he?"  asked  the 
sheriff. 

"  No.  He  gave  that  for  school  and  church  purposes, 
and,  except  that  they  have  a  right  to  use  it  on  the  Sab 
bath,  it  is  in  my  charge  as  the  principal  teacher  here," 
she  replied,  with  dignity. 

"And  you  do  not  desire  the  election  held  here?" 
asked  Captain  Pardee. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  discommode  the  voters  around  here, 
white  or  black,  but  I  would  not  balance  a  day's  time  or  a 
day's  walk  against  the  more  important  interests  of  this 
school  to  the  colored  people.  They  can  walk  ten  miles 
to  vote,  if  need  be,  but  no  exertion  of  theirs  could 
replace  even  the  building  and  its  furniture,  let  alone  the 
school  which  it  shelters." 

'  That  is  very  true,"  said  the  officer,  thoughtfully. 

So  the  project  was  abandoned,  and  Melton  remained 
the  nearest  polling-place  to  Red  Wing. 

As  they  rode  away  the  two  representatives  of  an 
tipodal  thought  discussed  the  scenes  they  had  witnessed 
that  day,  which  were  equally  new  to  them  both,  and  iiat 


THE    SHADOW  OF    THE   FLAG.  14? 

urally  enough  drew  from  them  entirely  different  conclu 
sions.  The  Northern  man  enthusiastically  prophesied 
the  rapid  rise  and  miraculous  development  of  the  colored 
race  under  the  impetus  of  free  schools  and  free  thought. 
The  Southern  man  only  saw  in  it  a  prospect  of  more 
"  sassy  niggers,"  like  Nimbus,  who  was  "a  good  enough 
nigger,  but  mighty  aggravating  to  the  white  folks." 

With  regard  to  the  teachers,  he  ventured  only  this  com 
ment  : 

11  Captain,  it's  a  mighty  pity  them  gals  are  teaching  a 
nigger  school.  They're  too  likely  for  such  work — too 
likely  by  half." 

The  man  whom  he  addressed  only  gave  a  low,  quiet 
laugh  at  this  remark,  which  the  other  found  it  difficult  to 
interpret. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    SHADOW    OF    THE    FLAG. 

As  soon  as  it  became  known  that  the  plan  of  having  a 
polling-place  at  Red  Wing  had  been  abandoned,  there 
was  an  almost  universal  expression  of  discontent  among 
the  colored  people.  Never  before  had  the  authority  or 
wisdom  of  the  teachers  been  questioned.  The  purity  of 
their  motives  and  the  devotion  they  had  displayed  in  ad 
vancing  every  interest  of  those  to  whom  they  had  come 
as  the  missionaries  of  light  and  freedom,  had  hitherto 
protected  them  from  all  jealousy  or  suspicion  on  the  part 
of  the  beneficiaries  of  their  devotion.  Mollie  Ainslie 
had  readily  and  naturally  fallen  into  the  habit  of  con 
trolling  and  directing  almost  everything  about  her,  sim 
ply  because  she  had  been  accustomed  to  self-control  and 


148  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

self-direction,  and  was  by  nature  quick  to  decide  and  res 
olute  to  act.  Conscious  of  her  own  rectitude,  and  fully 
realizing  the  dangers  which  might  result  from  the  experi 
ment  proposed,  she  had  had  no  hesitation  about  with 
holding  her  consent,  without  which  the  school-house  could 
not  be  used,  and  had  not  deemed  it  necessary  to  consult 
the  general  wish  of  the  villagers  in  regard  to  it.  Eliab 
Hill  had  approved  her  action,  and  she  had  briefly  spoken 
of  it  to  Nimbus — that  was  all. 

Now,  the  people  of  Red  Wing,  with  Nimbus  at  their 
head,  had  set  their  hearts  upon  having  the  election  held 
there.  The  idea  was  flattering  to  their  importance,  a 
recognition  of  their  manhood  and  political  co-ordination 
which  was  naturally  and  peculiarly  gratifying.  So  they 
murmured  and  growled,  and  the  discontent  grew  louder 
and  deeper  until,  on  the  second  day  thereafter,  Nimbus, 
with  two  or  three  other  denizens  of  Red  Wing,  came, 
with  gloomy,  sullen  faces,  to  the  school-house  at  the  hour 
for  dismissal,  to  hold  an  interview  with  Miss  Ainslie  on 
the  subject.  She  knew  their  errand,  and  received  them 
with  that  cool  reserve  which  so  well  became  her  deter 
mined  face  and  slight,  erect  figure.  When  they  had  stated 
their  desire,  and  more  than  half  indicated  their  determi 
nation  to  have  the  election  held  there  at  all  hazards,  she 
said  briefly, 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  objection." 

"  Dar  now,"  said  Nimbus exultingly  ;  "  I  'llowed  dar 
mus'  be  somethin'  wrong  'bout  it.  They  kep'  tellin'  me 
that  you  'posed  it,  an'  tole  de  Capting  dat  it  couldn't 
never  be  held  here  wid  your  consent  while  you  wuz  in 
de  school." 

"  So  I  did." 

"  You  don't  say  ?  an'  now  yer's  changed  yer  mind." 

"  I  have  not  changed  my  mind  at  all." 


THE   SHADOW  OF    THE  FLAG.  149 

"  No  ?  Den  what  made  you  say  yer  hadn't  no  'jec- 
tions,  just  now." 

"  Because  I  have  not.  It  is  a  free  country.  You  say 
you  are  determined  to  have  the  election  here.  I  am  fully 
convinced  that  it  would  do  harm.  Yet  you  have  a  right 
to  provide  a  place,  and  hold  it  here,  if  you  desire.  That 
I  do  not  question,  and  shall  not  attempt  to  prevent  ;  only, 
the  day  that  you  determine  to  do  so  I  shall  pack  up  my 
trunk,  ride  over  to  Boyleston,  deliver  the  keys  to  the 
superintendent,  and  let  him  do  as  he  chooses  about  the 
matter." 

"  Yer  don't  mean  ter  say  yer'd  go  an'  leave  us  fer 
good,  does  yer,  Miss  Mollie  ?"  asked  Nimbus  in  sur 
prise. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  when  the  people  have 
once  lost  confidence  in  me,  and  I  am  required  to  give  up 
my  own  deliberate  judgment  to  a  whimsical  desire  for 
parade,  I  can  do  no  more  good  here,  and  will  leave  at 
once." 

"  Sho,  now,  dat  won't  do  at  all — no  more  it  won't," 
responded  Nimbus.  "  Ef  yer  feel's  dat  er  way  'bout  it, 
der  ain't  no  mo'  use  a-talkin'.  Dere's  gwine  ter  be  nary 
'lection  h'yer  ef  it  really  troubles  you  ladies  dat  'er 
way. ' ' 

So  it  was  decided,  and  once  again  there  was  peace. 

To  compensate  themselves  for  this  forbearance,  how 
ever,  it  was  suggested  that  the  colored  voters  of  Red 
Wing  and  vicinity  should  meet  at  the  church  on  the 
morning  of  election  and  march  in  a  body  to  the  polls 
with  music  and  banners,  in  order  most  appropriately  and 
significantly  to  commemorate  their  first  exercise  of  the 
electoral  privilege.  To  this  Miss  Ainslie  saw  no  serious 
objection,  and  in  order  fully  to  conciliate  Nimbus,  who 
might  yet  feel  himself  aggrieved  by  her  previous  deci- 


15°  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

sion,  she  tendered  him  the  loan  of  her  horse  on  the  oc 
casion,  he  having  been  elected  marshal. 

From  that  time  until  the  day  of  the  election  there  was 
considerable  excitement.  There  were  a  number  of  polit 
ical  harangues  made  in  the  neighborhood  ;  the  League 
met  several  times  ;  the  colored  men  appeared  anxious 
and  important  about  the  new  charge  committed  to  their 
care  ;  the  white  people  were  angry,  sullen,  and  de 
pressed.  The  school  at  Red  Wing  went  peaceably  on, 
interrupted  only  by  the  excitement  attendant  upon  the 
preparations  making  for  the  expected  parade. 

Almost  every  night,  after  work  was  over,  the  colored 
people  would  gather  in  the  little  hamlet  and  march  to  the 
music  of  a  drum  and  fife,  and  under  the  command  of 
Nimbus,  whose  service  in  the  army  had  made  him  a  tol 
erable  proficient  in  such  tactical  movements  as  pertained 
to  the  "  school  of  the  company."  Very  often,  until  well 
past  midnight  the  fife  and  drum,  the  words  of  command, 
and  the  rumble  of  marching  feet  could  be  heard  in  the 
little  village.  The  white  people  in  the  country  around 
about  began  to  talk  about  "  the  niggers  arming  and 
drilling,"  saying  that  they  intended  to  "  seize  the 
polls  on  election  day  ;"  "  rise  up  and  murder  the 
whites  ;"  "burn  all  the  houses  along  the  river  ;  "  and 
a  thousand  other  absurd  and  incredible  things  which 
seemed  to  fill  the  air,  to  grow  and  multiply  like  baleful 
spores,  without  apparent  cause.  As  a  consequence  of 
this  there  grew  up  a  feeling  of  apprehension  among  the 
colored  men  also.  They  feared  that  these  things  were 
said  simply  to  make  a  ready  and  convenient  excuse  for 
violence  which  was  to  be  perpetrated  upon  them  in 
order  to  prevent  the  exercise  of  their  legal  rights. 

So  there  were  whisperings  and  apprehension  and  high  re 
solve  upon  both  sides.     The  colored  men,  conscious  of 


THE    SHADOW  OF    THE  FLAG.  151 

their  own  rectitude,  were  either  unaware  of  the  real  light 
in  which  their  innocent  parade  was  regarded  by  their 
white  neighbors,  or  else  laughed  at  the  feeling  as  in 
sincere  and  groundless.  The  whites,  having  been  for  gen 
erations  firm  believers  in  the  imminency  of  servile  in 
surrections  ;  devoutly  crediting  the  tradition  that  the 
last  words  of  George  Washington,  words  of  wisdom  and 
warning,  were,  "  Never  trust  a  nigger  with  a  gun  ;" 
and  accustomed  to  chafe  each  other  into  a  fever  heat  of  ex 
citement  over  any  matter  of  public  interest,  were  ready 
to  give  credence  to  any  report — all  the  more  easily  be 
cause  of  its  absurdity.  On  the  other  hand,  the  colored 
people,  hearing  these  rumors,  said  to  themselves  that  it 
was  simply  a  device  to  prevent  them  from  voting,  or  to 
give  color  and  excuse  for  a  conflict  at  the  polls. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  both  were  partly  right  and 
partly  wrong.  While  the  parade  was  at  first  intended 
simply  as  a  display,  it  came  to  be  the  occasion  of  prepara 
tion  for  an  expected  attack,  and  as  the  rumors  grew  more 
wild  and  absurd,  so  did  each  side  grow  more  earnest  and 
sincere.  The  colored  men  determined  to  exercise  their 
rights  openly  and  boldly,  and  the  white  men  were  as  fully 
determined  that  at  any  exhibition  of  "  impudence"  on  the 
part  of  the  ' '  niggers' '  they  would  teach  them  a  lesson  they 
would  not  soon  forget. 

None  of  this  came  to  the  ears  of  Mollie  Ainslie. 
Nevertheless  she  had  a  sort  of  indefinite  foreboding  of 
evil  to  come  out  of  it,  and  wished  that  she  had  exerted 
her  influence  to  prevent  the  parade. 

On  the  morning  of  the  election  day  a  motley  crowd 
collected  at  an  early  hour  at  Red  Wing.  It  was  notice 
able  that  every  one  carried  a  heavy  stick,  though  there 
was  no  other  show  of  arms  among  them.  Some  of  them, 
no  doubt,  had  pistols,  but  there  were  no  guns  in  the 


152  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

crowd.  They  seemed  excited  and  alarmed.  A  few  notes 
from  the  fife,  however,  banished  all  irresolution,  and  be 
fore  eight  o'clock  two  hundred  men  gathered  from  the 
country  round  marched  away  toward  Melton,  with  a 
national  flag  heading  the  column,  in  front  of  which 
rode  Eliab  Hill  in  the  carryall  belonging  to  Nimbus. 
With  them  went  a  crowd  of  women  and  children,  num 
bering  as  many  more,  all  anxious  to  witness  the  first 
exercise  of  elective  power  by  their  race,  only  just  deliv 
ered  from  the  bonds  of  slavery.  The  fife  screeched, 
the  drum  rattled  ;  laughter  and  jests  and  high  cheer 
prevailed  among  them  all.  As  they  marched  on,  now 
and  then  a  white  man  rode  past  them,  silent  and  sullen, 
evidently  enraged  at  the  display  which  was  being  made 
by  the  new  voters.  As  they  drew  nearer  to  the  town  it 
became  evident  that  the  air  was  surcharged  with  trouble. 
Nimbus  sent  back  Miss  Ainslie's  horse,  saying  that  he 
was  afraid  it  might  get  hurt.  The  boy  that  took  it  inno 
cently  repeated  this  remark  to  his  teacher. 

Within  the  town  there  was  great  excitement.  A 
young  man  who  had  passed  Red  Wing  while  the  men 
were  assembling  had  spurred  into  Melton  and  reported 
with  great  excitement  that  the  "  niggers"  were  collect 
ing  at  the  church  and  Nimbus  was  giving  out  arms  and 
ammunition  ;  that  they  were  boasting  of  what  they  would 
do  if  any  of  their  votes  were  refused  ;  that  they  had  all 
their  plans  laid  to  meet  negroes  from  other  localities  at 
Melton,  get  up  a  row,  kill  all  the  white  men,  burn  the 
town,  and  then  ravish  the  white  women.  This  formula 
of  horrors  is  one  so  familiar  to  the  Southern  tongue  that 
it  runs  off  quite  unconsciously  whenever  there  is  any  ex 
citement  in  the  air  about  the  "  sassy  niggers."  It  is  the 
"  form  of  sound  words,"  which  is  never  forgotten.  Its 
effect  upon  the  Southern  white  man  is  magical.  It 


THE   S PI  A  DOW  OF    THE   FLAG.  153 

moves  him  as  the  red  rag  does  a  mad  bull.  It  takes 
away  all  sense  and  leaves  only  an  abiding  desire  to  kill. 

So  this  rumor  awakened  great  excitement  as  it  flew 
from  lip  to  lip.  Few  questioned  its  verity,  and  most  of 
those  who  heard  felt  bound  in  conscience  to  add  some 
what  to  it  as  they  passed  it  on  to  the  next  listener. 
Each  one  that  came  in  afterward  was  questioned  eagerly 
upon  the  hypothesis  of  a  negro  insurrection  having  al 
ready  taken  shape.  "  How  many  are  there  ?"  "  Who 
is  at  the  head  of  it?"  "How  are  they  armed?" 
"  What  did  they  say  ?"  were  some  of  the  queries  which 
overwhelmed  every  new  comer.  It  never  seemed  to 
strike  any  one  as  strange  that  if  the  colored  men  had 
any  hostile  intent  they  should  let  these  solitary  horse 
men  pass  them  unmolested.  The  fever  spread.  Re 
volvers  were  nourished  and  shot-guns  loaded  ;  excited 
crowds  gathered  here  and  there,  and  nearly  everybody  in 
the  town  sauntered  carelessly  toward  the  bridge  across 
which  Nimbus'  gayly-decked  column  must  enter  the 
town.  A  few  young  men  rode  out  to  reconnoitre,  and 
every  few  minutes  one  would  come  dashing  back  upon  a 
reeking  steed,  revolver  in  hand,  his  mouth  full  of  strange 
oaths  and  his  eyes  naming  with  excitement. 

It  was  one  of  these  that  precipitated  the  result.  The  flag 
which  waved  over  the  head  of  the  advancing  column  had 
been  visible  from  the  town  for  some  time  as  now  and  then 
it  passed  over  the  successive  ridges  to  the  eastward.  The 
sound  of  fife  and  drum  had  become  more  and  more  dis 
tinct,  and  a  great  portion  of  the  white  male  population, 
together  with  those  who  had  come  in  to  the  election  from 
the  surrounding  country,  had  gathered  about  the  bridge 
spanning  the  swift  river  which  flowed  between  Melton 
and  the  hosts  of  the  barbarous  and  bloodthirsty  "  nig 
gers"  of  the  Red  Wing  country.  Several  of  the  young 


154  JlKfCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAU*. 

scouts  had  ridden  close  up  to  the  column  with  tantaliz 
ing  shouts  and  insulting  gestures  and  then  dashed  back 
to  recount  their  own  audacity  ;  until,  just  as  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  began  to  show  over  the  last  gullied  hill,  one  of 
them,  desirous  of  outdoing  his  comrades  in  bravado, 
drew  his  revolver,  flourished  it  over  his  head,  and  cast  a 
shower  of  insulting  epithets  upon  the  colored  pilgrims  to 
the  shrine  of  ballatorial  power.  He  was  answered  from 
the  dusky  crowd  with  words  as  foul  as  his  own.  Such 
insult  was  not  to  be  endured.  Instantly  his  pistol  was 
raised,  there  was  a  flash,  a  puff  of  fleecy  smoke,  a  shriek 
from  amid  the  crowd. 

At  once  all  was  confusion.  Oaths,  cries,  pistol-shots, 
and  a  shower  of  rocks  filled  the  air  as  the  young  man 
turned  and  spurred  back  to  the  town.  In  a  moment  the 
long  covered-bridge  was  manned  by  a  well-armed  crowd, 
while  others  were  seen  running  toward  it.  The  town 
was  in  an  uproar. 

The  officers  of  election  had  left  the  polls,  and  in  front 
of  the  bridge  could  be  seen  Hesden  Le  Moyne  and 
the  burly  sheriff  striving  to  keep  back  the  angry  crowd 
of  white  men.  On  the  hill  the  colored  men,  for  a  moment 
struck  with  amazement,  were  now  arming  with  stones, 
in  dead  earnest,  uttering  loud  cries  of  vengeance  for 
one  of  their  number  who,  wounded  and  affrighted,  lay 
groaning  and  writhing  by  the  roadside.  They  outnum 
bered  the  whites  very  greatly,  but  the  latter  excelled  them 
in  arms,  in  training,  and  in  position.  Still,  such  was  their 
exasperation  at  what  seemed  to  them  a  wanton  and  un 
provoked  attack,  that  they  were  preparing  to  charge  upon 
the  bridge  without  delay.  Nimbus  especially  was  fran 
tic  with  rage. 

"  It's  the  flag  !"  he  shouted  ;  "  the  damned  rebels  are 
firing  on  the  flag  !" 


THE   SHADOW  OF   THE  FLAG.  155 

He  strode  back  and  forth,  waving  an  old  cavalry  sabre 
which  he  had  brought  to  mark  his  importance  as  marshal 
of  the  day,  and  calling  on  his  followers  to  stand  by 
him  and  they  would  "  clean  out  the  murderous  crowd.'' 
A  few  pistol  shots  which  were  fired  from  about  the  bridge 
but  fell  far  short,  added  to  their  excitement  and  desper 
ation. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  rush  down  the  hillside, 
Mollie  Ainslie,  with  a  white  set  face,  mounted  on  her 
black  horse,  dashed  in  front  of  them,  and  cried, 

11  Halt!" 

Eliab  Hill  had  long  been  imploring  them  with  upraised 
hands  to  be  calm  and  listen  to  reason,  but  his  voice  was 
unheeded  or  unheard  in  the  wild  uproar.  The  sight 
of  the  woman,  however,  whom  all  of  them  regarded  so 
highly,  reining  in  her  restive  horse  and  commanding  si 
lence,  arrested  the  action  of  all.  But  Nimbus,  now 
raging  like  a  mad  lion,  strode  up  to  her,  waving  his 
sword  and  cursing  fearfully  in  his  wild  wrath,  and  said 
hoarsely  : 

"  You  git  out  o'  de  way,  Miss  Mollie  !  We  all  tinks 
a  heap  ob  you,  but  yer  hain't  got  no  place  h'yer  !  De 
time's  come  for  men  now,  an'  dis  is  men's  wuk,  an'  we's 
gwine  ter  du  it,  too  !  D'yer  see  dat  man  dar, 
a-bleedin'  an'  a-groanin'  ?  Blood's  been  shed  !  We's 
been  fired  into  kase  we  wuz  gwine  ter  exercise  our  rights 
like  men  under  de  flag  ob  our  kentry,  peaceable,  an' 
quiet,  an'  disturbin'  nobody  !  'Fore  God,  Miss  Mollie, 
ef  we's  men  an'  fit  ter  hev  enny  rights,  we  won't  stan' 
dat  !  We'll  hev  blood  fer  blood  !  Dat's  what  we 
means  !  You  jes  git  outen  de  way  !"  he  added  imperi 
ously.  "We'll  settle  dis  yer  matter  ourselves!"  He 
reached  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke  to  take  her  horse  by 
the  bit. 


'56  3 RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Stand  back  '"  cried  the  brave  girl.  "  Don't  you 
touch  him,  sir  !"  She  urged  her  horse  forward,  and 
Nimbus,  awed  by  her  intensity,  slowly  retreated  before 
her,  until  she  was  but  a  pace  or  two  in  front  of  the  line 
which  stretched  across  the  road.  Then  leaning  forward, 
she  said, 

"  Nimbus,  give  me  your  sword  !" 

"  What  you  wants  ob  dat,  Miss  Mollie  ?"  he  asked  in 
surprise. 

"  No  matter  ;  hand  it  to  me  !" 

He  took  it  by  the  blade,  and  held  the  heavy  basket- 
hilt  toward  her.  She  clasped  her  small  white  fingers 
around  the  rough,  shark-skin  handle  and  raised  it  over 
her  head  as  naturally  as  a  veteran  leader  desiring  to 
command  attention,  and  said  : 

"  Now,  Nimbus,  and  the  rest  of  you,  you  all  know 
that  I  am  your  friend.  My  brother  was  a  soldier,  and 
fought  for  your  liberty  on  this  very  horse.  I  have  never 
advised  you  except  for  your  good,  and  you  know  I 
never  will.  If  it  is  right  and  best  for  you  to  fight  now, 
I  will  not  hinder  you.  Nay,  I  will  say  God-speed,  and 
for  aught  I  know  fight  with  you.  I  am  no  coward,  if  I 
am  a  woman.  You  know  what  I  have  risked  already  for 
your  good.  Now  tell  me  what  has  happened,  and  what 
this  means." 

There  was  a  cheer  at  this,  and  fifty  excited  voices  be 
gan  the  story. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !'?  she  cried.  "  Keep  silent,  all  of  you, 
and  let  Mr.  Hill  tell  it  alone.  He  was  here  in  front  and 
saw  it  all." 

Thereupon  she  rode  up  beside  the  carry-all,  which  was 
now  in  the  middle  of  the  throng,  and  listened  gravely 
while  Eliab  told  the  whole  story  of  the  march  from  Red 
Wing.  There  was  a  buzz  when  he  had  ended,  which  she 


THE   SHADOW  OF   THE  FLAG.  157 

stilled  by  a  word  and  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and  then  turn 
ing  to  Nimbus  she  said  : 

"  Nimbus,  I  appoint  you  to  keep  order  in  this  crowd 
until  my  return.  Do  not  let  any  man,  woman,  or  child 
move  forward  or  back,  whatever  may  occur.  Do  you 
understand  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  hears  ;  but  whar  you  gwine,  Miss 
Mollie?" 

"  Into  the  town." 

"  No  yer  don't,  Miss  Mollie,"  said  he,  stepping  before 
her.  "  Dey'll  kill  you,  shore." 

"  No  matter.  I  am  going.  You  provoked  this  affray 
by  your  foolish  love  of  display,  and  it  must  be  settled 
now,  or  it  will  be  a  matter  of  constant  trouble  hereafter." 

11  But,  Miss  Mollie—" 

"  Not  a  word  !  You  have  been  a  soldier  and  should 
obey  orders.  Here  is  your  sword.  Take  it,  and  keep 
order  here.  Examine  that  poor  fellow's  wound,  and  I 
will  go  and  get  a  doctor  for  him." 

She  handed  Nimbus  his  sword  and  turned  her  horse 
toward  the  bridge.  Then  a  wail  of  distress  arose  from 
the  crowd.  The  women  begged  her  not  to  go,  with 
tears.  She  turned  in  her  saddle,  shook  her  head,  and 
raised  her  hand  to  show  her  displeasure  at  this.  Then 
she  took  a  handkerchief  from  her  pocket  and  half  wav 
ing  it  as  she  proceeded,  went  toward  the  bridge. 

"  Well,  I  swear,"  said  the  sheriff  ;  "if  that  are  gal 
ain't  coming  in  with  a  flag  of  truce.  She's  pluck,  any 
how.  You  ought  to  give  her  three  cheers,  boys." 

The  scene  which  had  been  enacted  on  the  hill  had 
been  closely  watched  from  the  bridge  and  the  town,  and 
Mollie' s  conduct  had  been  pretty  well  interpreted  though 
her  words  could  not  be  heard.  The  nerve  which  she 
had  exhibited  had  excited  universal  comment,  and  it 


158  B PICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

needed  no  second  invitation  to  bring  off  every  hat  and 
send  up,  in  her  honor,  the  shrill  yell  with  which  our  sol 
diers  became  familiar  during  the  war. 

Recognizing  this,  her  pale  face  became  suffused  with 
blushes,  and  she  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  lips  to  hide 
their  tremulousness  as  she  came  nearer.  She  ran  her 
eyes  quickly  along  the  line  of  strange  faces,  until  they 
fell  upon  the  sheriff,  by  whom  stood  Hesden  Le  Moyne. 
She  rode  straight  to  them  and  said, 

11  Oh,  Mr.  Sheriff—" 

Then  she  broke  down,  and  dropping  the  rein  on  her 
horse's  neck,  she  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  face 
and  wept.  Her  slight  frame  shook  with  sobs.  The 
men  looked  at  her  with  surprise  and  pity.  There  was 
even  a  huskiness  in  the  sheriff's  voice  as  he  said, 

"  Miss  Ainslie — I — I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am — but — " 

She  removed  the  handkerchief,  but  the  tears  were  still 
running  down  her  face  as  she  said,  glancing  round  the 
circle  of  sympathizing  faces  : 

"  Do  stop  this,  gentlemen.  It's  all  a  mistake.  I 
know  it  must  be  a  mistake  !" 

"  We  couldn't  help  it,  ma'am,"  said  one  impulsive 
youth,  putting  in  before  the  elders  had  time  to  speak  ; 
"  the  niggers  was  marching  on  the  town  here.  Did  you 
suppose  we  was  going  to  sit  still  and  let  them  burn  and 
ravage  without  opposition  ?  Oh,  we  haven't  got  so  low 
as  that,  if  the  Yankees  did  outnumber  us.  Not  yet  !" 

There  was  a  sneering  tone  in  his  voice  which  did  more 
than  sympathy  could,  to  restore  her  equanimity.  So  she 
said,  with  a  hint  of  a  smile  on  her  yet  tearful  face, 

'  The  worst  tiling  those  poor  fellows  meant  to  do, 
gentlemen,  was  to  make  a  parade  over  their  new-found 
privileges — march  up  to  the  polls,  vote,  and  march  home 
again.  They  are  just  like  a  crowd  of  boys  over  a  drum 


THE   SHADOW  OF   THE  FLAG.  159 

and  fife,  as  you  know.  They  carefully  excluded  from 
the  line  all  who  were  not  voters,  and  I  had  them  arranged 
so  that  their  names  would  come  alphabetically,  thinking 
it  might  be  handier  for  the  officers  ;  though  I  don't 
know  anything  about  how  an  election  is  conducted," 
she  added,  with  an  ingenuous  blush.  "  It's  all  my  fault, 
gentlemen  !  I  did  not  think  any  trouble  could  come 
of  it,  or  I  would  not  have  allowed  it  for  a  moment. 
I  thought  it  would  be  better  for  them  to  come  in  order, 
vote,  and  go  home  than  to  have  them  scattered  about  the 
town  and  perhaps  getting  into  trouble." 

"So  'twould,"  said  the  sheriff.  "Been  a  first-rate 
thing  if  we'd  all  understood  it — first-rate." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  gentlemen — so  sorry,  and  I'm 
afraid  one  man  is  killed.  Would  one  of  you  be  kind 
enough  to  go  for  a  doctor  ?" 

"  Here  is  one,"  said  several  voices,  as  a  young  man 
stepped  forward  and  raised  his  hat  respectfully. 

'*  1  will  go  and  see  him,"  he  said. 

He  walked  on  up  the  hill  alone. 

41  Well,  ma'am,"  said  the  sheriff,  "  what  do  you  think 
should  be  done  now  ?" 

"  If  you  would  only  let  these  people  come  in  and  vote, 
gentlemen.  They  will  return  at  once,  and  I  would  an 
swer  with  my  life  for  their  good  behavior.  I  think  it 
was  all  a  misunderstanding." 

"  Certainly — certainly,  ma'am,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  No 
doubt  about  it." 

She  turned  her  horse  and  was  about  to  ride  back  up  the 
hill,  but  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  taking  off  his  hat,  said  : 

'*  Gentlemen,  I  think  we  owe  a  great  deal  to  the  bra 
very  of  this  young  lady.  I  have  no  doubt  but  all  she 
says  is  literally  true.  Yet  we  like  to  have  got  into  trouble 
which  might  have, been  very  serious  in  its  consequences, 


160  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW 

nay,  perhaps  lias  already  resulted  seriously.  But  for  her 
timely  arrival,  good  sense,  and  courage  there  would  have 
been  more  bloodshed  ;  our  town  would  have  been  dis 
graced,  troops  posted  among  us,  and  perhaps  lives  taken 
in  retaliation.  Now,  considering  all  this,  I  move  a  vote 
of  thanks  to  the  lady,  and  that  we  all  pledge  ourselves 
to  take  no  notice  of  these  people,  but  let  them  come  in 
and  vote  and  go  out,  without  interruption.  All  that  are 
in  favor  of  that  say  Aye  !  ' 

Every  man  waved  his  hat,  there  was  a  storm  of 
44  ayes,"  and  then  the  old  rebel  yell  again,  as,  bowing 
and  blushing  with  pleasure,  Mollie  turned  and  rode  up 
the  hill. 

There  also  matters  had  assumed  a  more  cheerful  as 
pect  by  reason  of  her  cordial  reception  at  the  bridge, 
and  the  report  of  the  surgeon  that  the  man's  wound, 
though  quite  troublesome,  was  by  no  means  serious. 
She  told  in  a  few  words  what  had  occurred,  explained 
the  mistake,  reminded  them  that  such  a  display  would 
naturally  prove  very  exasperating  to  persons  situated  as 
the  others  were,  counselled  moderation  and  quietness  of 
demeanor,  and  told  them  to  re-form  their  ranks  and  go 
forward,  quietly  vote,  and  return.  A  rousing  cheer 
greeted  her  words.  Eliab  Hill  uttered  a  devout  prayer 
of  thankfulness.  Nimbus  blunderingly  said  it  was  all 
his  fault,  "  though  he  didn't  mean  no  harm,"  and  then 
suggested  that  the  flag  and  music  should  be  left  there  in 
charge  of  some  of  the  boys,  which  was  approved.  The 
wounded  man  was  put  into  the  carry-all  by  the  side  of 
Eliab,  and  they  started  down  the  hill.  The  sheriff,  who 
was  waiting  at  the  bridge,  called  out  for  them  to  bring 
the  flag  along  and  have  the  music  strike  up. 

So,  with  flying  colors  and  rattling  drum-beat,  the 
voters  of  Red  Wing  marched  to  the  polls  ;  the  people  of 


PHA  AT  TA  SMA  GORIA .  1 6 1 

Melton  looked  good-naturedly  on  ;  the  young  hot-bloods 
joked  the  dusky  citizens,  and  bestowed  extravagant  en 
comiums  on  the  plucky  girl  who  had  saved  them  from  so 
much  threatened  trouble  ;  and  Mollie  Ainslie  rode  home 
with  a  hot,  flushed  face,  and  was  put  to  bed  by  her  co- 
laborer,  the  victim  of  a  raging  headache. 

"I  declare,  Mollie  Ainslie,"  said  Lucy,  "you  are 
the  queerest  girl  I  ever  saw.  I  believe  you  would  ride 
that  horse  into  a  den  of  lions,  and  then  faint  because 
you  were  not  eaten  up.  I  could  never  do  what  you  have 
done — never  in  the  world — but  if  did  I  wouldn't  get 
sick  because  it  was  all  over." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PHANTASMAGORIA. 

THE  day  after  the  election  a  colored  lad  rode  up  to 
the  school-house,  delivered  a  letter  for  Miss  Ainslie  to 
one  of  the  scholars,  and  rode  away.  The  letter  was 
written  in  an  even,  delicate  hand,  which  was  yet  full 
of  feminine  strength,  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  Miss  AINSLIE  : 

"  My  son  Hesden  has  told  me  of  your  courage  in 
preventing  what  must  otherwise  have  resulted  in 
a  most  terrible  conflict  yesterday,  and  I  feel  it  to 
be  my  duty,  in  behalf  of  many  ladies  whose  husbands 
and  sons  were  present  on  that  occasion,  to  express  to 
you  our  gratitude.  It  is  seldom  that  such  opportunity 
presents  itself  to  our  sex,  and  still  more  seldom  that  we 


1 62  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

are  able  to  improve  it  when  presented.  Your  courage  in 
exerting  the  power  you  have  over  the  peculiar  people 
toward  whom  you  hold  such  important  relations,  com 
mands  my  utmost  admiration.  It  is  a  matter  of 
the  utmost  congratulation  to  the  good  people  of  Hors- 
ford  that  one  of  such  courage  and  prudence  occupies 
the  position  which  you  hold.  I  am  afraid  that  the 
people  whom  you  are  teaching  can  never  be  made  to 
understand  and  appreciate  the  position  into  which  they 
have  been  thrust  by  the  terrible  events  of  the  past 
few  years.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  you  will  do  all 
in  your  power  to  secure  that  result,  and  most  earn 
estly  pray  for  your  success.  Could  I  leave  my  house 
I  should  do  myself  the  pleasure  to  visit  your  school 
and  express  my  gratitude  in  person.  As  it  is,  I  can  only 
send  the  good  wishes  of  a  weak  old  woman,  who,  though 
once  a  slave-mistress,  was  most  sincerely  rejoiced  at 
the  down-fall  of  a  system  she  had  always  regarded 
with,  regret,  despite  the  humiliation  it  brought  to  her 
countrymen. 

11  HESTER  LE  MOYNE." 

This  was  the  first  word  of  commendation  which  had 
been  received  from  any  Southern  white  woman,  and  the 
two  lonely  teachers  were  greatly  cheered  by  it.  When  we 
come  to  analyze  its  sentences  there  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
patronizing  coolness  in  it,  hardly  calculated  to  awaken 
enthusiasm.  The  young  girls  who  had  given  themselves 
to  what  they  deemed  a  missionary  work  of  peculiar  ur 
gency  and  sacredness,  did  not  stop  to  read  between  the 
lines,  however,  but  perused  with  tears  of  joy  this  first 
epistle  from  one  of  their  own  sex  in  that  strange  country 
where  they  had  been  treated  as  leprous  outcasts  by  all 
the  families  who  belonged  to  the  race  of  which  they  were 


PHA  N  TA  SMA  GORIA .  1 63 

unconscious  ornaments.  They  jumped  to  the  conclusion 
that  a  new  day  was  dawning,  and  that  henceforth  they 
would  have  that  companionship  and  sympathy  which  they 
felt  that  they  deserved  from  the  Christian  women  by 
whom  they  were  surrounded. 

"  What  a  dear,  good  old  lady  she  must  be  !"  ex 
claimed  the  pretty  and  gushing  Lucy  Ellison.  "  I  should 
like  to  kiss  her  for  that  sweet  letter." 

So  they  took  heart  of  grace,  talked  with  the  old  "  Mam 
my"  who  had  charge  of  their  household  arrangements 
about  the  gentle  invalid  woman,  whom  she  had  served 
as  a  slave,  and  pronounced  "  jes  de  bestest  woman  in  de 
worl',  nex'  to  my  young  ladies,"  and  then  they  went  on 
with  their  work  with  renewed  zeal. 

Two  other  results  followed  this  affair,  which  tended 
greatly  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  their  lives.  A  good 
many  gentlemen  called  in  to  see  the  school,  most  of  them 
young  men  who  were  anxious  for  a  sight  of  the  brave 
lady  who  had  it  in  charge,  and  others  merely  desirous  to 
see  the  pretty  Yankee  ' '  nigger  teachers. ' '  Many  would, 
no  doubt,  have  become  more  intimate  with  them,  but 
there  was  something  in  the  terms  of  respectful  equality  on 
which  they  associated  with  their  pupils,  and  especially 
with  their  co-worker,  Eliab  Hill,  which  they  could  not 
abide  or  understand.  The  fame  of  the  adventure  had 
extended  even  beyond  the  county,  however,  and  raised 
them  very  greatly  in  the  esteem  of  all  the  people. 

Miss  Ainslie  soon  noticed  that  the  gentlemen  she  met 
in  her  rides,  instead  of  passing  her  with  a  rude  or  impu 
dent  stare  began  to  greet  her  with  polite  respect.  Be 
sides  this,  some  of  the  officers  of  the  post  at  Boyles- 
ton,  hearing  of  the  gallant  conduct  of  their  country 
woman,  rode  over  to  pay  their  respects,  and  brought 
back  such  glowing  reports  of  the  beauty  and  refinement 


164  BRICKS  IV I  THOU  7'  STRAW. 

of  the  teachers  at  Red  Wing  that  the  distance  could  not 
prevent  others  of  the  garrison  from  following  their  exam 
ple  ;  and  the  old  Ordinary  thereafter  witnessed  many  a 
pleasant  gathering  under  the  grand  old  oak  which 
shaded  it.  Both  of  the  teachers  found  admirers  in  the 
gallant  company,  and  it  soon  became  known  that  Lucy 
Ellison  would  leave  her  present  situation  erelong  to 
brighten  the  life  of  a  young  lieutenant.  It  was  rumored, 
too,  that  another  uniform  covered  the  sad  heart  of  a  cav 
alier  who  asked  an  exchange  into  a  regiment  on  frontier 
duty,  because  Mollie  Ainslie  had  failed  to  respond  favor 
ably  to  his  passionate  addresses. 

So  they  taught,  read,  sang,  wandered  along  the  wood- 
paths  in  search  of  new  beauties  to  charm  their  Northern 
eyes  ;  rode  together  whenever  Lucy  could  be  persuaded 
to  mount  Nimbus'  mule,  which,  despite  its  hybrid  na 
ture,  was  an  excellent  saddle-beast  ;  entertained  with 
unaffected  pleasure  the  officers  who  came  to  cheer  their 
loneliness  ;  and  under  the  care  of  their  faithful  old  "  Mam 
my"  and  the  oversight  of  a  kind-hearted,  serious-faced  Su 
perintendent,  who  never  missed  Red  Wing  in  his  monthly 
rounds,  they  kept  their  oddly  transformed  home  bright 
and  cheerful,  their  hearts  light  and  pure,  and  their  faith 
clear,  daily  thanking  God  that  they  were  permitted  to  do 
what  they  thought  to  be  His  will. 

All  of  their  experiences  were  not  so  pleasant.  By 
their  own  sex  they  were  still  regarded  with  that  calm,  un- 
observing  indifference  with  which  the  modern  lady  treats 
the  sister  who  stands  without  the  pale  of  reputable  society. 
So  far  as  the  "  ladies"  of  Horsford  were  concerned,  the 
"nigger  teachers  "  at  Red  Wing  stood  on  the  plane  of  the 
courtesan — they  were  seen  but  not  known.  The  recogni 
tion  which  they  received  from  the  gentlemen  of  Southern 
birth  had  in  it  not  a  little  of  the  shame-faced  curiosity 


A    CHILD-MAN.  165 

which  characterizes  the  intercourse  of  men  with  women 
whose  reputations  have  been  questioned  but  not  entirely 
destroyed.  They  were  treated  with  apparent  respect,  in 
the  school-room,  upon  the  highway,  or  at  the  market,  by 
men  who  would  not  think  of  recognizing  them  when  in  the 
company  of  their  mothers,  sisters,  or  wives.  Such  treat 
ment  would  have  been  too  galling  to  be  borne  had  it  not 
rbeen  that  the  spotless-minded  girls  were  all  too  pure  to 
realize  its  significance. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A    CHILD-MAN. 

ELIAB  HILL  had  from  the  first  greatly  interested  the 
teachers  at  Red  Wing.  The  necessities  of  the  school  and 
the  desire  of  the  charitable  Board  having  it  in  charge,  to 
accustom  the  colored  people  to  see  those  of  their  own 
race  trusted  and  advanced,  had  induced  them  to  employ 
him  as  an  assistant  teacher,  even  before  he  was  really 
competent  for  such  service.  It  is  true  he  was  given 
charge  of  only  the  most  rudimentary  work,  but  that  fact, 
while  it  inspired  his  ambition,  showed  him  also  the  need 
of  improvement  and  made  him  a  most  diligent  student. 

Lucy  Ellison,  as  being  the  most  expert  in  housewifely 
accomplishments,  had  naturally  taken  charge  of  the  do 
mestic  arrangements  at  the  Ordinary,  and  as  a  conse 
quence  had  cast  a  larger  share  of  the  school  duties  upon 
her  "  superior  officer,"  as  she  delighted  to  call  Mollie 
Ainslie.  This  division  of  labor  suited  well  the  characteris 
tics  of  both.  To  plan,  direct,  and  manage  the  school  came 
as  naturally  and  easily  to  the  stirring  Yankee  "  school- 


1 66  B KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

marrn''  as  did  the  ordering  of  their  little  household  to 
the  New  York  farmer's  daughter.  Among  the  extra  du 
ties  thus  devolved  upon  the  former  was  the  supervision 
and  direction  of  the  studies  of  Eliab  Hill.  As  he  could 
not  consistently  with  the  requisite  discipline  be  included 
in  any  of  the  regular  classes  that  had  been  formed,  and 
his  affliction  prevented  him  from  coming  to  them  in  the 
evening  for  private  instruction,  she  arranged  to  teach 
him  at  the  school-house  after  school  hours.  So  that 
every  day  she  remained  after  the  school  was  dismissed 
to  give  him  an  hour's  instruction.  His  careful  attention 
and  rapid  progress  amply  repaid  her  for  this  sacrifice, 
and  she  looked  forward  with  much  pleasure  to  the  time 
when,  after  her  departure,  he  should  be  able  to  conduct 
the  school  with  credit  to  himself  and  profit  to  his  fel 
lows. 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  she  realized  how  great  is  the 
momentum  which  centuries  of  intelligence  and  freedom 
give  to  the  mind  of  the  learner — how  unconscious  is  the 
acquisition  of  the  great  bulk  of  that  knowledge  which 
goes  to  make  up  the  Caucasian  manhood  of  the  nine 
teenth  century. 

Eliab's  desire  to  acquire  was  insatiable,  his  application 
was  tireless,  but  what  he  achieved  seemed  always  to 
lack  a  certain  flavor  of  completeness.  It  was  without 
that  substratum  of  general  intelligence  which  the  free 
white  student  has  partly  inherited  and  partly  acquired  by 
observation  and  experience,  without  the  labor  or  the  con 
sciousness  of  study.  The  whole  world  of  life,  business, 
society,  was  a  sealed  book  to  him,  which  no  other  hand 
might  open  for  him  ;  while  the  field  of  literature  was 
but  a  bright  tangled  thicket  before  him. 

That  unconscious  familiarity  with  the  past  which  is 
as  the  small-change  of  daily  thought  to  us  was  a  strange 


A    CHILD-MAN.  167 

currency  to  his  mind.  He  had,  indeed,  the  key  to  the 
value  of  each  piece,  and  could,  with  difficulty,  determine 
its  power  when  used  by  another,  but  he  did  not  give  or 
receive  the  currency  with  instinctive  readiness.  Two 
things  had  made  him  clearly  the  intellectual  superior  of 
his  fellows — the  advantages  of  his  early  years  by  which 
he  learned  to  read,  and  the  habit  of  meditation  which 
the  solitude  of  his  stricken  life  induced.  This  had 
made  him  a  thinker,  a  philosopher  far  more  profound 
than  his  general  attainments  would  naturally  produce. 
With  the  super-sensitiveness  which  always  characterizes 
the  afflicted,  also,  he  had  become  a  most  acute  and  sub 
tle  observer  of  the  human  countenance,  and  read  its  infi 
nite  variety  of  expression  with  ease  and  certainty.  In 
two  things  he  might  be  said  to  be  profoundly  versed — 
the  spirit  of  the  Scriptures,  and  the  workings  of  the  hu 
man  heart.  With  regard  to  these  his  powers  of  expres 
sion  were  commensurate  with  his  knowledge.  The 
Psalms  of  David  were  more  comprehensible  to  him  than 
the  simplest  formulas  of  arithmetic. 

Mollie  Ainslie  was  not  unfrequently  amazed  at  this  in 
equality  of  nature  in  her  favorite  pupil.  On  one  side  he 
seemed  a  full-grown  man  of  grand  proportions  ;  on  the 
other,  a  pigmy-child.  She  had  heard  him  pour  forth 
torrents  of  eloquence  on  the  Sabbath,  and  felt  the  force 
of  a  nature  exceptionally  rich  and  -strong  in  its  concep 
tion  of  religious  truths  and  human  needs,  only  to  find 
him  on  the  morrow  floundering  hopelessly  in  the  mire  of 
rudimentary  science,  or  getting,  by  repeated  perusals,  but 
an  imperfect  idea  of  some  author's  words,  which  it  seem 
ed  to  her  he  ought  to  have  grasped  at  a  glance. 

He  had  always  been  a  man  of  thought,  and  now  for 
two  years  he  had  been  studying  after  the  manner  of  the 
schools,  and  his  tasks  were  yet  but  rudimentary.  It  is 


1 68  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

true,  he  had  read  much  and  had  learned  not  a  little  in  a 
thousand  directions  which  he  did  not  appreciate,  but  yet 
he  was  discouraged  and  despondent,  and  it  is  no  wonder 
that  he  was  so.  The  mountain  which  stood  in  his  path 
way  could  not  be  climbed  over  nor  passed  by,  but  pebble 
by  pebble  and  grain  by  grain  must  be  removed,  until  a 
broad,  smooth  highway  showed  instead.  And  all  this  he 
must  do  before  he  could  comprehend  the  works  of  those 
writers  whose  pages  glow  with  light  to  our  eyes  from  the 
very  first.  He  read  and  re-read  these,  and  groped  his 
way  to  their  meaning  with  doubt  and  difficulty. 

Being  a  woman,  Mollie  Ainslie  was  not  speculative. 
She  could  not  solve  this  problem  of  strength  and  weak 
ness.  In  power  of  thought,  breadth  of  reasoning,  and 
keenness  of  analysis  she  felt  that  he  was  her  master  ;  in 
knowledge — the  power  of  acquiring  and  using  scientific 
facts — she  could  but  laugh  at  his  weakness.  It  puzzled 
her.  She  wondered  at  it  ;  but  she  had  never  sought  to 
assign  a  reason  for  it.  It  remained  for  the  learner  him 
self  to  do  this.  One  day,  after  weeks  of  despondency, 
he  changed  places  with  his  teacher  during  the  hour  de 
voted  to  his  lessons,  and  taught  her  why  it  was  that  he, 
Eliab  Hill,  with  all  his  desire  to  learn  and  his  ceaseless 
application  to  his  tasks,  yet  made  so  little  progress  in  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge. 

"It  ain't  so  much  the  words,  Miss  Mollie,"  he  said, 
as  he  threw  down  a  book  in  which  he  had  asked  her  to 
explain  some  passage  she  had  never  read  before,  but  the 
meaning  of  which  came  to  her  at  a  glance — "  it  ain't  so 
much  the  words  as  it  is  the  ideas  that  trouble  me.  These 
men  who  write  seem  to  think  and  feel  differently  from 
those  I  have  known.  I  can  learn  the  words,  but  when 
I  have  them  all  right  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  I  know 
iust  what  they  mean." 


A    CHILD-MAN.  169 

"Why,  you  must,"  said  the  positive  little  Yankee 
woman  ;  "  when  one  has  the  words  and  knows  the 
meaning  of  all  of  them,  he  cannot  help  knowing  what  the 
writer  means." 

"  Perhaps  I  do  not  put  it  as  I  should,"  said  he 
sadly.  "  What  I  want  to  say  is,  that  there  are  thoughts 
and  bearings  that  I  can  never  gather  from  books  alone. 
They  come  to  you,  Miss  Ainslie,  and  to  those  like  you, 
from  those  who  were  before  you  in  the  world,  and  from 
things  about  you.  It  is  the  part  of  knowledge  that  can't 
be  put  into  books.  Now  I  have  none  of  that.  My  peo 
ple  cannot  give  it  to  me.  I  catch  a  sight  of  it  here  and 
there.  Now  and  then,  a  conversation  I  heard  years  ago 
between  some  white  men  will  come  up  and  make  plain 
something  that  I  am  puzzling  over,  but  it  is  not  easy  for 
me  to  learn." 

"  1  do  not  think  I  understand  you,"  she  replied  ; 
"  but  if  I  do,  I  am  sure  you  are  mistaken.  How  can 
you  know  the  meanings  of  words,  and  yet  not  apprehend 
the  thought  conveyed  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  how"  he  replied.  '  I  only  know 
that  while  thought  seems  to  come  from  the  printed  page 
to  your  mind  like  a  flash  of  light,  to  mine  it  only  comes 
with  difficulty  and  after  many  readings,  though  I  may 
know  every  word.  For  instance,"  he  continued,  taking 
up  a  volume  of  Tennyson  which  lay  upon  her  table, 
"  take  any  passage.  Here  is  one  :  '  Tears,  idle  tears,  I 
know  not  what  they  mean  !  '  I  have  no  doubt  that  brings 
a  distinct  idea  to  your  mind." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  hesitatingly  ;  "  I  never  thought 
of  it  before,  but  1  think  it  does." 

"  Well,  it  does  not  to  mine.  1  cannot  make  out  what 
is  meant  by  '  idle  '  tears,  nor  whether  the  author  means 
to  say  that  he  does  not  know  what  '  tears  '  mean,  or  only 


I  7 o  BRICKS  II '1 TIJO U T  S TRA  //'. 

1  idle'   tears,  or  whether  lie  does  not  understand  such  a 
display  of  grief  because  it  is  idle." 

"  Might  he  not  have  meant  any  or  all  of  these  ?"  she 
asked. 

'  That  is  it,"  he  replied.  "  I  \vant  to  know  what  he 
did  mean.  Of  course,  if  I  knew  all  about  his  life  and 
ways,  and  the  like,  I  could  tell  pretty  fully  his  meaning. 
You  kno\v  them  because  his  thoughts  are  your  thoughts, 
his  life  has  been  your  life.  You  belong  to  the  same  race 
and  class.  I  am  cut  off  from  this,  andean  only  stumble 
slowly  along  the  path  of  knowledge." 

Thus  the  simple-minded  colored  man,  taught  to  medi 
tate  by  the  solitude  which  his  affliction  enforced  upon 
him,  speculated  in  regard  to  the  leges  non  scripts  which 
control  the  action  of  the  human  mind  and  condition  its 
progress. 

"What  has  put  you  in  this  strange  mood,  Eliab  ?" 
asked  the  teacher  wonderingly. 

His  face  flushed,  and  the  mobile  mouth  twitched  with 
emotion  as  he  glanced  earnestly  toward  her,  and  then, 
with  an  air  of  sudden  resolution,  said  : 

"  Well,  you  see,  that  matter  of  the  election — you 
took  it  all  in  in  a  minute,  when  the  horse  came  back. 
You  knew  the  white  folks  would  feel  aggravated  by  that 
procession,  and  there  would  be  trouble.  Now,  I  never 
thought  of  that.  I  just  thought  it  was  nice  to  be  free, 
and  have  our  own  music  and  march  under  that  dear  old 
flag  to  do  the  work  of  free  men  and  citizens.  That  was 
all." 

"  But  Nimbus  thought  of  it,  and  that  was  why  he  sent 
back  the  horse,"  she  answered. 

'  Not  at  all.  He  only  thought  they  might  pester 
the  horse  to  plague  him,  and  the  horse  might  get  away 
and  be  hurt.  We  didn't,  none  ot  us,  think  what  the 


A    CHILD-MAN.  171 

white  folks  would  feel,  because  we  didn't  know.     You 
did." 

"  But  why  should  this  affect  you  ?" 
'  Just  because  it  shows  that  education  is  something 
more  that  I  had  thought — something  so  large  and  difficult 
that  one  of  my  age,  raised  as  I  have  been,  can  only  get  a 
taste  of  it  at  the  best." 

;<  Well,  what  then  ?     You  are  not  discouraged  ?" 

"  Not  for  myself — no.  The  pleasure  of  learning  is 
reward  enough  to  me.  But  my  people,  Miss  Mollie,  I 
must  think  of  them.  I  am  only  a  poor  withered  branch. 
They  are  the  straight  young  tree.  I  must  think  of  them 
and  not  of  Eliab.  You  have  taught  me — this  affair, 
everything,  teaches  me — that  they  can  only  be  made  free 
by  knowledge.  I  begin  to  see  that  the  law  can  only  give 
us  an  opportunity  lo  make  ourselves  freemen.  Liberty 
must  be  earned  ;  it  cannot  be  given." 

"  That  is  very  true,"  said  the  practical  gi-rl,  whose 
mind  recognized  at  once  the  fact  which  she  had  never 
formulated  to  herself.  But  as  she  looked  into  his  face, 
working  with  intense  feeling  and  so  lighted  with  the  glory 
of  a  noble  purpose  as  to  make  her  forget  the  stricken 
frame  to  which  it  was  chained,  she  was  puzzled  at  what 
seemed  inconsequence  in  his  words.  So  she  added, 
wonderingly,  "  But  I  don't  see  why  this  should  depress 
you.  Only  think  how  much  you  have  done  toward  the 
end  you  have  in  view.  Just  think  what  you  have  accom 
plished — what  strides  you  have  made  toward  a  full  and 
complete  manhood.  You  ought  to  be  proud  rather  than 
discouraged." 

"  Ah  !"  said  he,  "  that  has  been  for  myself,  Miss 
Mollie,  not  for  my  people.  What  am  I  to  my  race  ? 
Aye,"  he  continued,  with  a  glance  at  his  withered  limbs, 
"  to  the  least  one  of  them  not — not —  " 


I72  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  bowed  his 
head  in  the  self-abasement  which  hopeless  affliction  so 
often  brings. 

"  Eliab,"  said  the  teacher  soothingly,  as  if  her  pupil 
were  a  child  instead  of  a  man  older  than  herself,  "  you 
should  not  give  way  to  such  thoughts.  You  should 
rise  above  them,  and  by  using  the  powers  you  have, 
become  an  honor  to  your  race." 

"  No,  Miss  Mollie,"  he  replied,  with  a  sigh,  as  he 
raised  his  head  and  gazed  into  her  face  earnestly.  "  There 
ain't  nothing  in  this  world  forme  to  look  forward  to  only 
to  help  my  people.  I  am  only  the  dust  on  the  Lord's 
chariot-wheels — only  the  dust,  which  must  be  brushed 
out  of  the  way  in  order  that  their  glory  may  shine  forth. 
And  that,"  he  continued  impetuously,  paying  no  atten 
tion  to  her  gesture  of  remonstrance,  "  is  what  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you  about  this  evening.  It  is  hard  to  say, 
but  I  must  say  it — must  say  it  now.  I  have  been  taking 
too  much  of  your  time  and  attention,  Miss  Mollie." 

"  I  am  sure,  Mr.  Hill—"  she  began,  in  some  confusion. 

'Yes,  I  have,"  he  went  on  impetuously,  while  his 
face  flushed  hotly.  "It  is  the  young  and  strong  only 
who  can  enter  into  the  Canaan  the  Lord  has  put  before 
our  people.  I  thought  for  a  while  that  we  were  just 
standing  on  the  banks  of  Jordan— that  the  promised 
land  was  right  over  yon,  and  the  waters  piled  up  like  a 
wall,  so  that  even  poor  weak  'Liab  might  cross  over. 
But  I  see  plainer  no\v.  We're  only  just  past  the  Red 
Sea,  just  coming  into  the  wildnerness,  and  if  1  can  only 
get  a  glimpse  from  Horeb,  wid  my  old  eyes  by  and  by, 
'Liab  '11  be  satisfied.  It'll  be  enough,  an' more'n  enough, 
for  him.  He  can  only  help  the  young  ones — the  lambs 
of  the  flock — a  little,  mighty  little,  p'raps,  but  it's  all 
there  is  for  him  to  do." 


A    CHILD-MAX.  173 

"  Why,  Eliab —  "  began  the  astonished  teacher  again. 

"  Don't  !  don't  !  Miss  Mollie,  if  you  please,"  he  cried, 
with  a  look  of  pain.  "  I'se  done  tried — I  hez,  Miss 
Mollie.  God  only  knows  how  I'se  tried  !  But  it  ain't 
no  use — no  use,"  he  continued,  with  a  fierce  gesture,  and 
relapsing  unconsciously  into  the  rougher  dialect  that  he 
had  been  training  himself  to  avoid.  "  I  can't  do  it,  an' ' 
there's  no  use  a-tryin'.  There  ain't  nothin'  good  for 
me  in  this  worl' — not  in  this  worl'.  It's  hard  to  give 
it  up,  Miss  Mollie — harder'n  you'll  ever  dream  ;  but  I 
hain't  blind.  I  knows  the  brand  is  on  me.  It's  on  my 
tongue  now,  that  forgets  all  I've  learned  jes  ez  soon  ez 
the  time  of  trial  comes." 

He  seemed  wild  with  excitement  as  h.e  leaned  for 
ward  on  the  table  toward  her,  and  accompanied  his 
words  with  that  eloquence  of  gesticulation  which  only  the 
hands  that  are  tied  to  crippled  forms  acquire.  He 
paused  suddenly,  bowed  his  head  upon  his  crossed  arms, 
and  his  frame  shook  with  sobs.  She  rose,  and  would 
have  come  around  the  table  to  him.  Raising  his  head 
quickly,  he  cried  almost  fiercely  : 

"  Don't  !  don't  !  don't  come  nigh  me,  Miss  Mollie  ! 
I'm  going  to  do  a  hard  thing,  almost  too  hard  for  me. 
I'm  going  to  get  off  the  chariot-wheel — out  of  the  light 
of  the  glory — out  of  the  way  of  the  young  and  the  strong  ! 
Them  that's  got  to  fight  the  Lord's  battles  must  have  the 
training,  and  not  them  that's  bound  to  fall  in  the  wilder 
ness.  The  time  is  precious — precious,  and  must  not  be  | 
wasted.  You  can't  afford  to  spend  so  much  of  it  on  me  ! 
The  Lord  can't  afford  ter  hev  ye,  Miss  Mollie  !  I  must 
step  aside,  an'  I'se  gwine  ter  do  it  now.  If  yer's  enny 
time  an'  strength  ter  spar'  more'n  yer  givin'  day  by  day 
in  the  school,  I  want  yer  should  give  it  to—  to — Winnie 
an'  'Thusa — they're  bright  girls,  that  have  studied  hard, 


174  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  are  young  and  strong.  It  is  through  such  as  them 
that  we  must  come  up — our  people,  I  mean.  I  want  you 
to  give  them  ray  hour,  Miss  Mollie — my  hour  !  Don't  say 
you  won't  do  it  !"  he  cried,  seeing  a  gesture  of  dissent. 
"  Don't  say  it  !  You  must  do  it  !  Promise  me,  Miss 
Mollie — for  my  sake  !  for — promise  me — now — quick  ! 
afore  I  gets  too  weak  to  ask  it  !" 

"  Why,  certainly,  Eliab,"  she  said,  in  amazement,  while 
she  half  shrank  from  him  as  if  in  terror.  "  I  will  do  it 
if  you  desire  it  so  much.  But  you  should  not  get  so  ex 
cited.  Calm. yourself  !  I  am  sure  I  don't  see  why  you 
should  take  such  a  course  ;  but,  as  you  say,  they  are  two 
bright  girls  and  will  make  good  teachers,  which  are  much 
needed." 

'  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !"  cried  the  cripple,  as  his 
head  fell  again  upon  his  arms.  After  a  moment  he  half 
raised  it  and  said,  weakly, 

"  Will  you  please  call  Nimbus,  Miss  Mollie  ?  I  must 
go  home  now.  And  please,  Miss  Mollie,  don't  think 
hard  of  'Liab — don't,  Miss  Mollie,"  he  said  humbly. 

"  Why  should  I  ?"  she  asked  in  surprise.  '  You 
have  acted  nobly,  though  I  cannot  think  you  have  done 
wisely.  You  are  nervous  now.  You  may  think  differ 
ently  hereafter.  If  you  do,  you  have  only  to  say  so.  I 
will  call  Nimbus.  Good-by  !" 

She  took  her  hat  and  gloves  and  went  down  the  aisle. 
Happening  to  turn  near  the  door  to  replace  a  book  her 
dress  had  brushed  from  a  desk,  she  saw  him  gazing 
after  her  with  a  look  that  haunted  her  memory  long  after 
ward. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her  he  slid  from  his  chair 
and  bowed  his  head  upon  it,  crying  out  in  a  voice  of 
tearful  agony,  "  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !"  again  and 
again,  while  his  unfinished  form  shook  with  hysteric  sobs. 


HOW   THE  FALLOW   WAS  SEEDED.  175 

"  And  she  said  I  was  not  wise  !"  he  half  laughed,  as 
the  tears  ran  down  his  face  and  he  resumed  his  invoca 
tion  of  thankfulness.  Thus  Nimbus  found  him  and  car 
ried  him  home  with  his  wonted  tenderness,  soothing  him 
like  a  babe,  and  wondering  what  had  occurred  to  dis 
compose  his  usually  sedate  and  cheerful  friend. 

"  I  declare,  Lucy,"  said  Mollie  Ainslie  that  evening, 
to  her  co-worker,  over  their  cosy  tea,  "  I  don't  believe  I 
shall  ever  get  to  understand  these  people.  There  is  that 
Eliab  Hill,  who  was  getting  along  so  nicely,  has  con 
cluded  to  give  up  his  studies.  I  believe  he  is  half  crazy 
anyhow.  He  raved  about  it,  and  glared  at  me  so  that  I 
was  half  frightened  out  of  my  wits.  I  wonder  why  it  is 
that  cripples  are  always  so  queer,  anyhow  ?" 

She  would  have  been  still  more  amazed  if  she  had 
known  that  from  that  day  Eliab  Hill  devoted  himself  to 
his  studies  with  a  redoubled  energy,  which  more  than 
made  up  for  the  loss  of  his  teacher's  aid.  Had  she  her 
self  been  less  a  child  she  would  have  seen  that  he  whom 
she  had  treated  as  such  was,  in  truth,  a  man  of  rare 
strength. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

HOW    THE    FALLOW    WAS    SEEDED. 

THE  time  had  come  when  the  influences  so  long  at 
work,  the  seed  which  the  past  had  sown  in  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  races,  must  at  length  bear  fruit.  The  period 
of  actual  reconstruction  had  passed,  and  independent, 
self-regulating  States  had  taken  the  place  of  Military  Dis 
tricts  and  Provisional  Governments.  The  people  of  the 
South  began,  little  by  little,  to  realize  that  they  held 


I?6  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

their  future  in  their  own  hands — that  the  supervising  and 
restraining  power  of  the  General  Government  had  been 
withdrawn.  The  colored  race,  yet  dazed  with  the  new 
light  of  liberty,  were  divided  between  exultation  and 
fear.  They  were  like  a  child  taking  his  first  steps — full 
of  joy  at  the  last  accomplished,  full  of  terror  at  the  one 
which  was  before. 

The  state  of  mind  of  the  Southern  white  man,  with 
reference  to  the  freedman  and  his  exaltation  to  the  priv 
ilege  of  citizenship  is  one  which  cannot  be  too  fre 
quently  analyzed  or  too  closely  kept  in  mind  by  one  who 
desires  fully  to  apprehend  the  events  which  have  since 
occurred,  and  the  social  and  political  structure  of  the 
South  at  this  time. 

As  a  rule,  the  Southern  man  had  been  a  kind  master 
to  his  slaves.  Conscious  cruelty  was  the  exception. 
The  real  evils  of  the  system  were  those  which  arose  from 
its  /^/-conscious  barbarism — the  natural  and  inevitable 
results  of  holding  human  beings  as  chattels,  without 
right,  the  power  of  self-defence  or  protestation — dumb 
driven  brutes,  deprived  of  all  volition  or  hope,  subservient 
to  another's  will,  and  bereft  of  every  motive  for  self-im 
provement  as  well  as  every  opportunity  to  rise.  The 
effect  of  this  upon  the  dominant  race  was  to  fix  in  their 
minds,  with  the  strength  of  an  absorbing  passion,  the 
idea  of  their  own  innate  and  unimpeachable  superiority, 
of  the  unalterable  inferiority  of  the  slave-race,  of  the 
infinite  distance  between  the  two,  and  of  the  depth  of  de 
basement  implied  by  placing  the  two  races,  in  any  re 
spect,  on  the  same  level.  The  Southern  mind  had  no  an 
tipathy  to  the  negro  in  a  menial  or  servile  relation.  On 
the  contrary,  it  was  generally  kind  and  considerate  of 
him,  as  such.  It  regarded  him  almost  precisely  as  other 
people  look  upon  other  species  of  animate  property,  ex- 


HOW   THE  FALLOW  WAS  SEEDED.  177 

cept  that  it  conceded  to  him  the  possession  of  human 
passions,  appetites,  and  motives.  As  a  farmer  likes  to 
turn  a  favorite  horse  into  a  fine  pasture,  watch  his  antics, 
and  see  him  roll  and  feed  and  run  ;  as  he  pats  and  caresses 
him  when  he  takes  him  out,  and  delights  himself  in  the 
enjoyment  of  the  faithful  beast — just  so  the  slave-owner 
took  pleasure  in  the  slave's  comfort,  looked  with  approval 
upon  his  enjoyment  of  the  domestic  relation,  and  desired 
to  see  him  sleek  and  hearty,  and  physically  well  content. 

It  was  only  as  a  man  that  the  white  regarded  the  black 
with  aversion  ;  and,  in  that  point  of  view,  the  antipathy 
was  all  the  more  intensely  bitter  since  he  considered  the 
claim  to  manhood  an  intrusion  upon  the  sacred  and  ex 
clusive  rights  of  his  own  race.  This  feeling  was  greatly 
strengthened  by  the  course  of  legislation  and  legal  con 
struction,  both  national  and  State.  Many  of  the  sub 
tlest  exertions  of  American  intellect  were  those  which 
traced  and  defined  the  line  of  demarcation,  until  there 
was  built  up  between  the  races,  considered  as  men,  a  wall 
of  separation  as  high  as  heaven  and  as  deep  as  hell. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  cite  some  few  examples  of  this, 
which  will  serve  at  once  to  illustrate  the  feeling  itself, 
and  to  show  the  steps  in  its  progress. 

T.  It  was  held  by  our  highest  judicial  tribunal  that  the 
phrase  "  we  the  people,"  in  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence,  did  not  include  slaves,  who  were  excluded 
from  the  inherent  rights  recited  therein  and  accounted 
divine  and  inalienable,  embracing,  of  course,  the  right 
of  self-government,  which  rested  on  the  others  as  sub 
stantial  premises. 

2.  The  right  or  privilege,  whichever  it  may  be,  of  in 
termarriage  with  the  dominant  race  was  prohibited  to 
the  African  in  all  the  States,  both  free  and  slave, 


178  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and,  for  all  legal  purposes,  that  man  was  accounted 
11  colored"  who  had  one-sixteenth  of  African  blood. 

3.  The  common-law    right  of  self-defence   was    gradu 
ally  reduced  by-legal  subtlety,  in  the  slave  States,  until 
only  the  merest  shred  remained  to  the  African,  while 
the  lightest  word   of  disobedience   or  gesture   of  dis 
respect  from  him,  justified   an   assault  on   the  part  of 
the  white  man. 

4.  Early  in   the   present  century   it  was  made   a    crime 
in  all  the  States  of  the  South  to  teach   a  slave  to  read, 
the    free    blacks    were    disfranchised,    and    the    most 
stringent  restraining  statutes  extended  over  them,  in 
cluding    the  prohibition  of  public  assembly,  even  for 
divine  worship,  unless  a  white  man  were  present. 

5.  Emancipation  was  not  allowed  except  by  decree  of  a 
court  of  record  after  tedious  formality  and  the  assump 
tion  of  onerous  responsibilities  on  the  part  of  the  mas 
ter  ;  and  it  was  absolutely  forbidden  to  be   done  by 
testament. 

6.  As  indicative  of  the  fact  that  this  antipathy  was  di 
rected  against  the  colored  man  as  a  free  agent,  a  man, 
solely,  may  be  cited  the  well-known  fact  of  the  enor 
mous  admixture  of  the  races  by  illicit  commerce  at  the 
South,  and  the  further  fact  that  this  was,  in  very  large 
measure,   consequent  upon  the  conduct  of  the  most 
refined  and  cultivated  elements  of  Southern  life.     As 
a  thing,  an  animal,  a  mere  existence,  or  as  the  servant 
of  his  desire  and  instrument  of  his  advancement,  the 
Southern  Caucasian  had  no  antipathy  to  the  colored 
race.   As  one  to  serve,  to  nurse,  to  minister  to  his  will 
and   pleasure,   he   appreciated  and   approved  of   the 
African  to  the  utmost  extent. 

y.   Every  exercise  of  manly  right,  sentiment,  or  inclina 
tion,  on  the  part  of  the  negro,  was  rigorously  repressed. 


HOW   THE  FALLOW   WAS  SEEDED.  179 

To  attempt  to  escape  was  a  capital  crime  if  repeated 
once  or  twice  ;  to  urge  others  to  escape  was  also  capi 
tally  punishable  ;  to  learn  to  read,  to  claim  the  rights 
of  property,  to  speak  insolently,  to  meet  for  prayer 
without  the  sanction  of  the  white  man's  presence, 
were  all  offences  against  the  law  ;  and  in  this  case,  as 
in  most  others,  the  law  was  an  index  as  well  as  the 
source  of  a  public  sentiment,  which  grew  step  by  step 
with  its  progress  in  unconscious  barbarity. 
8.  Perhaps  the  best  possible  indication  of  the  force 
of  this  sentiment,  in  its  ripened  and  intensest  state,  is 
afforded  by  the  course  of  the  Confederate  Government 
in  regard  to  the  proposal  that  it  should  arm  the  slaves. 
In  the  very  crisis  of  the  struggle,  when  the  passions  of 
the  combatants  were  at  fever  heat,  this  proposition  was 
made.  There  was  no  serious  question  as  to  the  effi 
ciency  or  faithfulness  of  the  slaves.  The  masters  did 
not  doubt  that,  if  armed,  with  the  promise  of  freedom 
extended  to  them,  they  would  prove  most  effective 
allies,  and  would  secure  to  the  Confederacy  that  auton 
omy  which  few  thoughtful  men  at  that  time  believed  it 
possible  to  achieve  by  any  other  means.  Such  was 
the  intensity  of  this  sentiment,  however,  that  it  was 
admitted  to  be  impossible  to  hold  the  Southern  sol 
diery  in  the  field  should  this  measure  be  adopted. 
So  that  the  Confederacy,  rather  than  surrender  a  tithe 
of  its  prejudice  against  the  negro  as  a  man,  rather  than 
owe  its  life  to  him,  serving  in  the  capacity  of  a  soldier, 
chose  to  suffer  defeat  and  overthrow.  The  African 
might  raise  the  food,  build  the  breastworks,  and  do 
aught  of  menial  service  or  mere  manual  labor  required 
for  the  support  of  the  Confederacy,  without  objection 
or  demurrer  on  the  part  of  any  ;  but  they  would 
rather  surrender  all  that  they  had  fought  so  long  and 


i So  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

so  bravely  to  secure,  rather  than  admit,  even  by  infer 
ence,  his  equal  manhood  or  his  fitness  for  the  duty 
and  the  danger  of  a  soldier's  life.  It  was  a  grand 
stubborness,  a  magnificent  adherence  to  an  adopted 
and  declared  principle,  which  loses  nothing  of  its 
grandeur  from  the  fact  that  we  may  believe  the  princi 
ple  to  have  been  erroneous. 

9.  Another  very  striking  and  peculiar  illustration  of 
this  sentiment  is  the  fact  that  one  of  the  most  earnest 
advocates  of  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  a  type  of 
its  Southern  opponents,  the  author  of  "  The  Impend 
ing  Crisis" — a  book  which  did  more  than  any  other 
to  crystallize  and  confirm  the  sentiment  awakened  at 
the  North  by  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin" — was  perhaps 
more  bitterly  averse  to  the  freedom,  citizenship,  and 
coexistence  of  the  African  with  the  Caucasian  than 
any  man  that  has  ever  written  on  the  subject.  He 
differed  from  his  slaveholding  neighbors  only  in  this  : 
they  approved  the  African  as  a  menial,  but  abominated 
him  as  a  self-controlling  man  ;  he  abhorred  him  in 
both  relations.  With  them,  the  prejudice'  of  race 
made  the  negro  hateful  only  when  he  trenched  on  the 
sacred  domain  of  their  superior  and  self-controlling 
manhood  ;  with  ///;;/,  hatred  of  the  race  overleaped 
the  conventional  relation  and  included  the  African 
wherever  found,  however  employed,  or  in  whatso 
ever  relation  considered.  His  horror  of  the  black  far 
overtopped  his  ancient  antipathy  to  the  slave.  The  fact 
that  he  is  an  exception,  and  that  the  extravagant  rhodo- 
montades  of  "  Nojoque"  are  neither  indorsed  nor  be 
lieved  by  any  considerable  number  of  the  Southern 
people,  confirms  most  powerfully  this  analysis  of  their 
temper  toward  the  African. 

jo.   Still  another  signal  instance  of  its  accuracy  is  the 


HOW    THE   FALLOW   WAS  SEEDED.  181 

striking  fact  that  one  of  the  hottest  political  struggles 
since  the  war  arose  out  of  the  proposition  to  give  the 
colored  man  the  right  to  testify,  in  courts  of  justice, 
against  a  white  man.  The  objection  was  not  bottomed 
on  any  desire  to  deprive  the  colored  man  of  his  legal 
rights,  but  had  its  root  in  the  idea  that  it  would  be  a 
degradation  of  the  white  man  to  allow  the  colored  man 
to  take  the  witness-stand  and  traverse  the  oath  of  a 
Caucasian. 

Now,  as  it  relates  to  our  story  : — That  this  most 
intense  and  vital  sentiment  should  find  expression 
whenever  the  repressive  power  of  the  conquering  people 
was  removed  was  most  natural  ;  that  it  would  be  fanned 
into  a  white  heat  by  the  freedman's  enfranchisement  was 
beyond  cavil  ;  and  that  Red  Wing  should  escape  such 
manifestations  of  the  general  abhorrence  of  the  work  of 
development  there  going  on  was  not  to  be  expected,  even 
by  its  most  sanguine  friend. 

Although  the  conduct  of  the  teachers  at  Red  Wing 
had  been  such  as  to  awaken  the  respect  of  all,  yet 
there  were  two  things  which  made  the  place  pecu 
liarly  odious.  One  was  the  influence  of  Eliab  Hill 
with  his  people  in  all  parts  of  the  county,  which  had 
very  greatly  increased  since  he  had  ceased  to  be  a 
pupil,  in  appearance,  and  had  betaken  himself  more  than 
ever  to  solitude  and  study.  The  other  was  the  con 
tinued  prosperity  and  rugged  independence  of  Nimbus, 
who  was  regarded  as  a  peculiarly  "  sassy  nigger."  To 
the  malign  influence  of  these  two  was  attributed  every 
difference  of  opinion  between  employer  and  employee, 
and  every  impropriety  of  conduct  on  the  part  of  the 
freedmen  of  Horsford.  Eliab  was  regarded  as  a  wicked 
spirit  who  devised  evil  continually,  and  Nimbus  as  his 


182  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

willing  familiar,  who  executed  his  purpose  with  ceaseless 
diligence.  So  Red  Wing  was  looked  upon  with  distrust, 
and  its  two  leading  characters,  unconsciously  to  them 
selves,  became  marked  men,  upon  whom  rested  the  sus 
picion  and  aversion  of  a  whole  community. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

AN    OFFERING    OF    FIRST-FRUITS. 

AN  election  was  impending  for  members  of  the  Legis 
lature,  and  there  was  great  excitement  in  the  county  of 
Horsford.  Of  white  Republicans  there  were  not  above 
a  half  dozen  who  were  openly  known  as  such.  There 
were  two  or  three  others  who  were  regarded  with  some 
suspicion  by  their  neighbors,  among  whom  was  Hesden 
Le  Moyne.  Since  he  had  acted  as  a  judge  of  election 
at  the  time  of  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution,  he  had 
never  been  heard  to  express  any  opinion  upon  political 
matters.  He  was  known  to  have  voted  for  that  Consti 
tution,  and  when  questioned  as  to  his  reasons  for  such  a 
course,  had  arrogantly  answered, 

"  Simply  because  I  saw  fit  to  do  so." 

His  interrogator  had  not  seen  fit  to  inquire  further. 
Hesden  Le  Moyne  was  not  a  man  with  whom  one  wished  to 
provoke  a  controversy.  His  unwillingness  to  submit  to  be 
catechised  was  generally  accepted  as  a  proof  positive  of 
his  ' '  Radical' '  views.  He  had  been  an  adviser  of  Nimbus, 
his  colored  playmate,  in  the  purchase  of  the  Red  Wing 
property,  his  interest  in  Eliab  Hill  had  not  slackened 
since  that  worthy  cast  in  his  lot  with  Nimbus,  and 
he  did  not  hesitate  to  commend  the  work  of  the  school. 


AN   OFFERING   OF  FIRST-FRUITS.  183 

He  had  several  times  attended  the  examinations  there, 
had  become  known  to  the  teachers,  and  took  an  active 
interest  in  the  movement  there  going  on.  What  his  per 
sonal  views  were  in  regard  to  the  very  peculiar  state  of 
affairs  by  which  he  was  surrounded  he  had  never  found 
it  necessary  to  declare.  He  attended  quietly  to  the  work 
of  his  plantation,  tenderly  cared  for  his  invalid  mother, 
and  watched  the  growth  of  his  little  son  with  the  seem 
ingly  settled  conviction  that  his  care  was  due  to  them 
rather  than  to  the  public.  His  counsel  and  assistance 
were  still  freely  sought  in  private  matters  by  the  inhabi 
tants  of  the  little  village  of  Red  Wing,  and  neither  was 
ever  refused  where  he  saw  that  it  might  do  good.  He 
was  accounted  by  them  a  friend,  but  not  a  partisan,  and 
none  of  them  had  ever  discussed  any  political  questions 
with  him,  except  Eliab  Hill,  who  had  more  than  once 
talked  with  him  upon  the  important  problem  of  the  future 
of  that  race  to  which  the  unfortunate  cripple  was  so 
slightly  akin  and  yet  so  closely  allied. 

There  was  a  large  majority  of  colored  men  in  the 
county,  and  one  of  the  candidates  for  the  Legislature 
was  a  colored  man.  While  elections  were  under  the 
military  control  there  had  been  no  serious  attempt  to 
overcome  this  majority,  but  now  it  was  decided  that  the 
county  should  be  "redeemed,"  which  is  the  favorite 
name  in  that  section  of  the  country  for  an  unlawful  sub 
version  of  a  majority.  So  the  battle  was  joined,  and 
the  conflict  waged  hot  and  fierce.  That  negroes — no 
matter  how  numerous  they  might  be — should  rule, 
should  bear  sway  and  control  in  the  county  of  Hors- 
ford,  was  a  thought  not  by  any  means  to  be  endured. 
It  was  a  blow  on  every  white  cheek — an  insult  to  every 
Caucasian  heart.  Men  cursed  wildly  when  they  thought 
of  it.  Women  taunted  them  with  cowardice  for  per- 


184  AASCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

mitting  it.      It  was  the  one   controlling  and  consuming 
thought  of  the  hour. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  colored  people  felt  thac  it  was 
necessary  for  them  to  assert  their  newly-acquired  rights 
if  they  expected  to  retain  them.  So  that  both  parties 
were  influenced  by  the  strongest  considerations  which 
could  possibly  affect  their  action. 

Red  Wing  was  one  of  the  points  around  which  this 
contest  raged  the  hottest.  Although  it  had  never  become 
a  polling  precinct,  and  was  a  place  of  no  mercantile  im 
portance,  it  was  yet  the  center  from  which  radiated  the 
spirit  that  animated  the  colored  men  of  the  most  popu 
lous  district  in  the  county.  It  was  their  place  of  meet 
ing  and  conference.  Accustomed  to  regard  their  race 
as  peculiarly  dependent  upon  the  Divine  aid  because  of 
the  lowly  position  they  had  so  long  occupied,  they  had 
become  habituated  to  associate  political  and  religious  in 
terests.  The  helplessness  of  servitude  left  no  room  for 
hope  except  through  the  trustfulness  of  faith.  The 
generation  which  saw  slavery  swept  away,  and  they  who 
have  heard  the  tale  of  deliverance  from  the  lips  of  those 
who  had  been  slaves,  will  never  cease  to  trace  the  hand 
of  God  visibly  manifested  in  the  events  culminating  in 
liberty,  or  to  regard  the  future  of  the  freed  race  as  under 
the  direct  control  of  the  Divine  Being.  For  this  reason 
the  political  and  religious  interests  and  emotions  of  this 
people  are  quite  inseparable.  Wherever  they  meet  to  wor 
ship,  there  they  will  meet  to  consult  of  their  plans,  hopes, 
and  progress,  as  at  once  a  distinct  race  and  a  part  of  the 
American  people.  Their  religion  is  tinged  with  political 
thought,  and  their  political  thought  shaped  by  religious 
conviction. 

In  this  respect  the  colored  race  in  America  are  the  true 
children  of  the  Covenanters  and  the  Puritans.   Their  faith 


AN  OFFERING   OF  FIRST-FRUITS.  185 

is  of  the  same  unquestioning  type,  which  no  disappoint 
ment  or  delay  can  daunt,  and  their  view  of  personal  duty 
and  obligation  in  regard  to  it  is  not  less  intense  than  that 
which  led  men  to  sing  psalms  and  utter  praises  on 
board  the  storm-bound  ' '  Mayflower. ' '  The  most  English 
of  all  English  attributes  has,  by  a  strange  transmutation, 
become  the  leading  element  in  the  character  of  the  Africo- 
American.  The  same  mixed  motive  of  religious  duty 
toward  posterity  and  devotion  to  political  liberty  which 
peopled  the  bleak  hills  of  New  England  and  the  fertile 
lands  of  Canaan  with  peoples  fleeing  from  bondage  and 
oppression,  may  yet  cover  the  North  with  dusky  fugitives 
from  the  spirit  and  the  situs  of  slavery. 

From  time  to  time  there  had  been  political  meetings  held 
at  the  church  or  school-house,  composed  mainly  of  colored 
men,  though  now  and  then  a  little  knot  of  white  men  would 
come  in  and  watch  their  proceedings,  sometimes  from 
curiosity,  and  sometimes  from  spleen.  Heretofore,  how 
ever,  there  had  been  no  more  serious  interruption  than 
some  sneering  remarks  and  derisive  laughter.  The  col 
ored  men  felt  that  it  was  their  own  domain,  and  showed 
much  more  boldness  than  they  would  ever  manifest  on 
other  occasions.  During  this  campaign,  however,  it  was 
determined  to  have  a  grand  rally,  speeches,  and  a  bar 
becue  at  Red  Wing.  The  colored  inhabitants  of  that 
section  were  put  upon  their  mettle.  Several  sheep  and 
pigs  were  roasted,  rude  tables  were  spread  under  the 
trees,  and  all  arrangements  made  for  a  great  occasion. 

At  an  early  hour  of  the  day  when  it  was  announced 
that  the  meeting  would  be  held,  groups  of  colored  people 
of  all  ages  and  both  sexes  began  to  assemble.  They 
were  all  talking  earnestly  as  they  came,  for  some  matter 
of  unusual  interest  seemed  to  have  usurped  for  the  mo 
ment  their  accustomed  lightness  and  jollity  of  demeanor. 


1 86  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Nimbus,  as  the  most  prosperous  and  substantial  col 
ored  man  of  the  region,  had  always  maintained  a 
decided  leadership  among  them,  all  the  more  from  the 
fact  that  he  had  sought  thereby  to  obtain  no  advantage 
for  himself.  Though  a  most  ardent  supporter  of  that 
party  with  which  he  deemed  the  interests  of  his  race  in 
separably  allied,  he  had  never  taken  a  very  active  part  in 
politics,  and  had  persistently  refused  to  be  put  forward 
for  any  official  position,  although  frequently  urged  to 
allow  himself  to  be  named  a  candidate. 

"  No,"  he  would  always  say  ;  "  I  hain't  got  no  larnin' 
an'  not  much  sense.  Besides,  I'se  got  all  1  kin  manage, 
an'  more  too,  a-takin'  keer  o'  dis  yer  farm.  Dat's  what 
I'm  good  fer.  I  kin  manage  terbacker,  an'  I'd  ruther 
hev  a  good  plantation  an'  run  it  myself,  than  all  the 
offices  in  the  worl'.  I'se  jes  fit  fer  dat,  an'  I  ain't  fit 
fer  nuffin'  else." 

His  success  proved  the  justice  of  his  estimate,  and  the 
more  he  prospered  the  stronger  was  his  hold  upon  his 
people.  Of  course,  there  were  some  who  envied  him 
his  good-fortune,  but  such  was  his  good-nature  and  read 
iness  to  render  all  the  assistance  in  his  power  that  this 
dangerous  leaven  did  not  spread.  "  Bre'er  Nimbus"  was 
still  the  heart  and  life  of  the  community  which  had  its 
center  at  Red  Wing.  His  impetuosity  was  well  tempered 
by  the  subtle  caution  of  Eliab  Hill,  without  whose  ad 
vice  he  seldom  acted  in  any  important  matter. 

The  relations  between  these  two  men  had  continued 
singularly  close,  although  of  late  Eliab  had  been  more 
independent  of  his  friend's  assistance  than  formerly  ; 
for,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  teachers,  his  parish 
ioners  had  contributed  little  sums — a  dime,  a  quar« 
ter,  and  a  few  a  half-dollar  apiece — to  get  him  one 
of  those  wheeled  chairs  which  are  worked  by  the  hands, 


AN  OFFERING  OF  FIRST-PRUITS.  187 

and  by  means  of  which  the  infirm  are  frequently  enabled 
to  move  about  without  other  aid.  It  was  the  first  time  they 
had  ever  given  anything  to  a  minister  of  their  own,  and 
it  was  hard  for  those  who  had  to  support  families  upon  a 
pittance  which  in  other  parts  of  the  country  would  mean 
starvation  ;  yet  so  many  had  hastened  to  give,  that  the 
"  go-cart,"  as  it  was  generally  called,  proved  a  vehicle 
of  marvelous  luxury  and  finish  to  the  unaccustomed 
eyes  of  these  rude  children  of  the  plantation. 

In  this  chair  Eliab  was  able  to  transport  himself  to 
and  from  the  school-room,  and  even  considerable  dis 
tances  among  his  people.  This  had  brought  him  into 
nearer  relations  with  them,  and  it  was  largely  owing  to 
his  influence  that,  after  Northern  benevolence  began  to 
restrict  its  gifts  and  to  condition  its  benevolence  upon 
the  exercise  of  a  self-help  which  should  provide  for  a 
moiety  of  the  expense,  the  school  still  continued  full  and 
prosperous,  and  the  services  of  Miss  Ainslie  were  retain 
ed  for  another  year — the  last  she  intended  to  give  to  the 
missionary  work  which  accident  had  thrust  upon  her 
young  life.  Already  her  heart  was  pining  for  the  bright 
ness  and  kindly  cheer  of  the  green -clad  hills  from 
which  she  had  been  exiled  so  long,  and  the  friends 
whose  hearts  and  arms  would  welcome  her  again  to  her 
childhood's  home. 

On  the  morning  of  the  barbecue  Nimbus  and  his 
household  were  astir  betimes.  Upon  him  devolved  the 
chief  burden  of  the  entertainment  which  was  to  be  spread 
before  his  neighbors.  There  was  an  abundance  of  willing 
hands,  but  few  who  could  do  much  toward  providing  the 
requisite  material.  His  premises  had  undergone  little 
change  beyond  the  wide,  cool,  latticed  walk  which  now 
led  from  his  house  to  the  kitchen,  and  thence  to  "  Uncle 
'Liab's"  house,  over  which  Virginia-creepers  and  honey- 


1 38  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

suckle  were  already  clambering  in  the  furious  haste 
which  that  quick-growing  clime  inspires  in  vegetation. 
A  porch  had  also  been  added  to  his  own  house,  up  the 
posts  and  along  the  eaves  of  which  the  wisteria  was 
clambering,  while  its  pendulous,  lilac  flower-stems  hung 
thick  below.  A  few  fruit-trees  were  planted  here  and 
there,  and  the  oaks,  which  he  had  topped  and  shortened 
back  when  he  cut  away  the  forest  for  his  house-lot,  had 
put  out  new  and  dense  heads  of  dark-green  foliage  that 
gave  to  the  humble  home  a  look  of  dignity  and  repose 
hardly  to  be  matched  by  more  ornate  and  costly  struc 
tures.  Upon  the  north  side  the  corn  grew  rank  and 
thick  up  to  the  very  walls  of  the  mud-daubed  gable,  soft 
ening  its  rudeness  and  giving  a  charm  even  to  the  bare 
logs  of  which  it  was  formed.  Lugena  had  grown  full  and 
matronly,  had  added  two  to  her  brood  of  lusty  children, 
and  showed  what  even  a  brief  period  of  happiness  and 
prosperity  would  do  for  her  race  as  she  bustled  about 
in  neat  apparel  with  a  look  of  supreme  content  on  her 
countenance. 

Long  before  the  first  comers  from  the  country  around 
had  made  their  appearance,  the  preparations  were  com 
pleted,  the  morning  meal  cleared  away,  the  table  set  in 
the  latticed  passage  for  the  dinner  of  the  most  honored 
guests,  the  children  made  tidy,  and  Nimbus,  magnifi 
cently  attired  in  clean  shirt,  white  pants  and  vest,  a  black 
alpaca  coat  and  a  ne\v  Panama  hat,  was  ready  to  welcome 
the  expected  arrivals. 

Eliab,  too,  made  tidy  by  the  loving  care  of  his  friends, 
was  early  mounted  in  his  hand-carriage,  and  propelling 
himself  here  and  there  to  meet  the  first  comers.  The 
barbecue  was  roasting  under  the  charge  of  an  experienced 
cook  ;  the  tables  were  arranged,  and  the  speakers'  stand 
at  the  back  of  the  school-house  in  the  grove  was  in  the 


A    BLACK  DEMOCRITUS.  189 

hands  of  the  decorators.  All  was  mirth  and  happiness. 
The  freedmen  were  about  to  offer  oblations  to  liberty — a 
sacrifice  of  the  first-fruits  of  freedom. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A      BLACK      DEMOCRITUS. 

"I  SAY,  Bre'er Nimbus  !"  cried  avoicefrom  the  midst 
of  a  group  of  those  first  arriving,  "  how  yer  do  dis 
mornin'  ?  Hope  yer's  well,  Squar',  you  an'  all  de  fam- 

"y." 

The  speaker  was  a  slender,  loose-jointed  young  man, 
somewhat  shabbily  attired,  with  a  shapeless  narrow-brim 
med  felt  hat  in  his  hand,  who  was  bowing  and  scraping 
with  a  mock  solemnity  to  the  dignitary  of  Red  Wing, 
while  his  eyes  sparkled  with  fun  and  his  comrades  roared 
at  his  comic  gestures. 

"  Is  dat  you,  Berry?"  said  Nimbus,  turning,  with  a 
smile.  "How  yer  do,  Berry?  Glad  ter  see  ye  well," 
nodding  familiarly  to  the  others  and  extending  his  hand. 
'  Thank  ye,  sah.  You  do  me  proud,"  said  the  jester, 
sidling  towards  him  and  bowing  to  the  crowd  with  serio 
comic  gravity.  "  Ladies  an'  gemmen,  yer  jes  takes 
notice,  ef  yer  please,  dat  I  ain't  stuck  up — not  a  mite,  I 
ain't,  ef  I  is  pore.  I'se  not  ashamed  ter  shake  hands 
wid  Mr.  Squar'  Nimbus — Desmit — War  '.  I  stan's  by 
him  whatever  his  name,  an'  no  matter  how  many  he's 
got,  ef  it's  more'nhe's  got  fingers  an'  toes."  He  bowed 
low  with  a  solemn  wave  of  his  grimy  hat,  as  he  shook  the 
proffered  hand,  amid  the  laughter  of  his  audience,  with 
whom  he  seemed  to  be  a  prime  favorite. 


190  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

11  Glad  ter  know  it,  Berry,"  said  Nimbus,  shaking  the 
other's  hand  warmly,  while  his  face  glowed  with  evident 
pleasure.  "  How's  all  gittin'  on  wid  ye,  ennyhow  ?" 

"  Gittin'  on,  Bre'er  Nimbus?"  replied  Berry,  strik 
ing  an  attitude.  "  Uittin'  on,  did  yer  say  ?  Lor'  bress 
yer  soul,  yer  nebberseedde  beat — nebber.  Ef  yerebber 
pegs  out  h'yer  at  Red  Wing,  Bre'er  Nimbus,  all  yer's 
got  ter  du  is  jes  ter  come  up  on  de  Kentry  Line  whar 
folks  libs.  Jes  you  look  o'  dar,  will  yer  ?"  he  continued, 
extending  a  slender  arm  ending^  in  a  skinny  hand,  the 
widely  parted  fingers  of  which  seemed  like  talons,  while 
the  upturned,  palm  was  worn  smooth  and  was  of  a  yel 
lowish,  pallid  white  about  the  fingers'  ends.  "  Jes  see 
de  'fee's  ob  high  libbin'  on  a  nigger.  Dar's  muscle  fer 
ye.  All  you  needs,  Bre'er  Nimbus,  is  jest  a  few  weeks 
ob  good  feed  !  Come  up  dar  now  an'  wuk  a  farm  on 
sheers,  an'  let  Marse  Sykes  'llowance  ye,  an'  yer'll  come 
out  like  me  an'  git  some  good  clothes,  too  !  Greatest 
place  ter  start  up  a  run-down  nigger  yer  ever  seed. 
Jes'  look  at  me,  now.  When  I  went  dar  I  didn't  hev  a 
rag  ter  my  back — nary  a  rag,  an'  now  jes  see  how  I'se 
covered  wid  'em  !" 

There  was  a  laugh  from  the  crowd  in  which  Berry 
joined  heartily,  rolling  his  eyes  and  contorting  his  limbs 
so  as  to  show  in  the  completest  manner  the  striking  con 
trast  between  his  lank,  stringy,  meanly-clad  frame  and 
the  full,  round,  well-clothed  form  of  Nimbus. 

When  the  laughter  had  subsided  he  struck  in  again, 
with  the  art  of  an  accomplished  tease,  and  sidling  still 
closer  to  the  magnate  of  Red  Wing,  he  said,  with  a 
queer  assumption  of  familiarity  : 

11  An'  how  is  yer  good  lady,  Missus  Lugena,  an'  all  de 
babies,  Squar'  ?  They  tell  me  you're  gittin'  on  right 
smart  an'  think  of  settin'  up  yer  kerridge  putty  soon. 


A    BLACK  DEMOCRITUS.  191 

Jes'  ez  soon  ez  yer  git  it  ready,  Sally  an'  me's  a-comin' 
over  ter  christen  it.  We's  cousins,  yer  know,  Squar', 
leastways,  Sally  an'  Lugena's  allus  said  ter  be  kin  on  the 
fayther's  side — the  white  side  ob  de  family,  yer  know. 
Yer  wouldn't  go  back  on  yer  relations,  would  yer, 
Nimbus  ?  We  ain't  proud,  not  a  bit  proud,  Bre'er 
Nimbus,  an'  yer  ain't  a  gwine  ter  forgit  us,  is  yer  ? 
Yah,  yah,  yah  !" 

There  was  a  tinge  of  earnestness  in  this  good-natured 
banter,  but  it  was  instantly  dissipated  by  Nimbus's 
reply  : 

Not  a  bit  of  it,  cousin  Berry.  Lugena  charged  me 
dis  berry  mornin',  jes  ez  soon  ez  I  seed  you  an'  Sally, 
ter  invite  ye  ter  help  eat  her  big  dinner  to-day.  Whar' 
is  Sally?" 

"  Dar  now,"  said  Berry,  "  dat's  jes  what  I  done  tole 
Sally,  now.  She's  got  a  notion,  kase  you's  rich  yer's 
got  stuck  up,  you  an'  Lugena.  But  I  tole  her,  sez  I, 
'  Nimbus  ain't  dat  ar  sort  of  a  chile,  Nimbus  hain't. 
He's  been  a  heap  luckier  nor  de  rest  of  us,  but  he  ain't 
got  de  big-head,  nary  bit. '  Dat's  what  I  say,  an'  durn  me 
ef  I  don't  b'lieve  it  too,  I  does.  We's  been  hevin' 
purty  hard  times,  Sally  an'  me  hez.  Nebber  did  hev 
much  luck,  yer  know — 'cept  for  chillen.  Yah,  yah  ! 
An'  jes'  dar  we's  hed  a  trifle  more'n  we  'zackly  keered 
about.  Might  hev  spared  a  few  an'  got  along  jest  ez 
well,  'cordin'  ter  my  notion.  Den  de  ole  woman's  been 
kinder  peaked  this  summer,  an'  some  two  or  free  ob  de 
babies  hez  been  right  poorly,  an'  Sal — wal,  she  got  a 
leettle  fretted,  kase  yer  know  we  both  wuks  purty  hard 
an'  don't  seem  ter  git  ahead  a  morsel.  So  she  got  her 
back  up,  an'  sez  she  ter  me  dis  mornin'  :  '  Berry,'  sez 
she,  '  I  ain't  a  gwine  ter  go  near  cousin  Nimbus',  I  ain't, 
kase  I  hain't  got  no  fine  clo'es,  ner  no  chicken-fixing  ter 


192  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

take  ter  de  barbecue  nuther.'  So  she's  done  stop  up  ter 
Bob  Mosely's  wid  de  baby,  an'  I  t'ought  I'd  jes  come 
down  an'  spy  out  de  Ian'  an*  see  which  on  us  wuz  right. 
Dat's  de  fac*  truf,  Bre'er  Nimbus,  an'  no  lyin'.  Yah, 
yah  !" 

"  Sho,  sho,  Berry,"  replied  Nimbus,  reproachfully; 
"what  makes  Sally  sech  a  big  fool?  She  oughter  be 
ashamed  ter  treat  her  ole  fren's  dat  ar  way." 

"  Now  yer  talkin',  Bre'er  Nimbus,  dat  you  is  !  But  la 
sakes  !  Bre'er  Nimbus,  dat  ar  gal  hain't  got  no  pride. 
Why  yer  wouldn't  b'lieve  hit,  but  she  ain't  even  'shamed 
of  Berry — fac'  !  Yah,  yah  !  What  yer  tinks  ob  dat 
now  ?" 

"Why,  co'se  she  ain't,"  said  Nimbus.  "  Don't  see 
how  she  could  be.  Yer  always  jes  dat  peart  an'  jolly 
dat  nobody  couldn't  git  put  out  wid  yer." 

1  Tink  so,  Bre'er  Nimbus  ?  Wai,  now,  I  'shares  ye 
dat  yer  couldn't  be  wuss  mistaken  ef  yer'd  tried.  On'y 
jes'  dis  mornin'  Marse  Sykes  got  put  out  wid  me  jes  de 
wus  kind." 

"  How's  dat,  Berry  ?" 

"  Wai,  yer  see,  I'se  been  a  wukkin'  fer  him  ebber 
sence  de  s'rrender  jes  de  same  ez  afore,  only  dat  he 
pays  me  an'  I  owes  him.  He  pays  me  in  sto' 
orders,  an'  it  'pears  like  I  owes  him  mo'  an'  mo' 
ebbery  time  we  settles  up.  Didn't  use  ter  be  so 
when  we  hed  de  Bureau,  kase  den  Marse  Sykes' 
'count  didn't  use  ter  be  so  big  ;  but  dese  las'  two  year 
sence  de  Bureau  done  gone,  bress  God,  I  gits  nex'  ter 
nurfin'  ez  we  goes  'long,  an'  hez  less  'n  nuffin'  atter- 
wards." 

"  What  wages  d'ye  git  ?"  asked  Nimbus. 

"  Marse  Sykes,  he  sez  I  gits  eight  dollahs  a  month, 
myself,  an'  Sally  she  gits  fo';  an'  den  we  hez  tree  pounds 


A    BLACK  DEMOCRITUS.  193 

o'meat  apiece  an'  a  peck  o'  meal,  each  on  us,  ebbery  week. 
We  could  git  along  right  peart  on  dat — we  an'  de  chil- 
lens,  six  on  'em — wid  jes'  a  drop  o'  coffee  now  an'  agin, 
yer  know  ;  but  yer  see,  Sally,  she's  a  leetle  onsartin  an' 
can't  allus  wuk,  an'  it  'pears  like  it  takes  all  ob  my  wuk 
ter  pay  fer  her  rations  when  she  don't  wuk.  I  dunno 
how  'tis,  but  dat's  de  way  Marse  Sykes  riggers  it  out." 

"  Yer  mus'  buy  a  heap  ob  fine  clo'es, "  said  one  of  the 
bystanders. 

"  Wall,  ef  I  does,  I  leaves  'em  ter  home  fer  fear  ob 
wearin'  'em  out,  don't  I  ?"  said  Berry,  glancing  at  his 
dilapidated  costume.  "  Dat's  what's  de  matter.  I'se 
bad  'nough  off,  but  yer  jest  orter  see  dem  chillen  ! 
Dey  war's  brak  ebbery  day  jes'  like  a  minister,  yer 
knows — not  sto'  clo'es  dough,  oh,  no  !  home-made  all 
de  time  !  Mostly  bar' -skins,  yer  know  !  Yah,  yah  !" 

"An"  yer  don't  drink,  nuther,"  said  one  whose 
words  and  appearance  clearly  showed  that  he  regarded 
it  as  a  matter  of  surprise  that  any  one  should  not. 

"  'Ceptin'  only  de  Christmas  an'  when  same  feller 
treats,"  responded  Berry. 

"  P'raps  he  makes  it  outen  de  holidays,"  said  a  third. 
"  Dar's  whar  my  boss  sloshes  it  on  ter  me.  Clar  ef  I 
don't  hev  more  holidays  than  dar  is  wuk-days,  'cordin 
'ter  his  'count." 

"  Holidays  !"  said  Berry  ;  ')  dat's  what's  de  matter. 
Hain't  hed  but  jes  tree  holidays  'cep'  de  Chris'mas 
weeks,  in  all  dat  time.  So,  I  'llowed  I'd  take  one 
an'  come  ter  dis  yer  meetin'.  Wai,  'long  de  fust 
ob  de  week,  I  make  bold  ter  tell  him  so,  an'  ebber 
sence  dat  'pears  like  he's  gwine  ter  hu't  hisself, 
he's  been  so  mad.  I'se  done  tried  not  ter  notrre  it, 
kase  I'se  dat  solemn-like  mjself,  yer  knows,  I  couldn't 
'ford  ter  take  on  no  mo'  ob  dat  kind  ;  but  every  day  or 


194  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

two  he's  been  a  lettin'  slip  somethin'  'bout  niggas  gadclin' 
roun',  yer  know." 

"  That  was  mean,"  said  Nimbus,  "  kase  ef  yer  isallus 
laughin'  an'  hollerin'  roun',  I'm  boun'  ter  say  dar  ain't 
no  stiddier  ban*  in  de  county  at  enny  sort  ob  wuk." 

"  Jes'  so.  Much  obleeged  ter  ye,  Squar',  fcr  dat. 
Same  ter  yeself  'tu.  Howsomever,  he  didn't  make  no  sech 
remark,  not  ez  I  heerd  on,  an*  dis  mornin'  bright  an' 
airly,  he  corned  roun'  an'  axes  me  didn't  I  want  ter  take 
de  carry-all  and  go  ter  Lewyburg  ;  an'  when  I  'llowed 
dat  I  didn't  keer  tu,  not  jes  to-day,  yer  know,  he  axed 
me,  was  I  comin*  h'yer  ter  dis  yer  meetin',  an'  when  I 
'llowed  1  was,  he  jes'  got  up  an'  rar'd.  Yah,  yah  !  how 
he  did  make  de  turf  fly,  all  by  hissef,  kase  I  wur  a 
whistlin'  '  Ole  Jim  Crow'  an'  some  other  nice  psalm- 
tunes,  jes'  ter  keep  myself  from  larfin'  in  his  face  !  Till 
finally  he  sez,  sez  he,  '  Berry  Lawson,  ef  yer  goes  ter 
dat  er  Radikil  meetin',  yer  needn't  never  come  back  ter 
my  plantation  no  mo'.  Yer  can't  stay  h'yer  no  longer — ' 
jes  so.  Den  I  made  bold  ter  ax  him  how  our  little 
'count  stood,  kase  we's  been  livin'  mighty  close  fer  a 
while,  in  hopes  ter  git  a  mite  ahead  so's  ter  sen'  de  two 
oldes'  chillen  ter  school  h'yer,  'gin  winter.  An'  den 
sez  he,  '  'Count  be  damned  !' — jes  so  ;  '  don't  yer  know 
hit's  in  de  papers  dat  ef  yer  don't  'bey  me  an'  wuk  obe 
dient  ter  my  wishes,  yer  don't  git  nary  cent,  nohow  at 
all  ?'  I  tole  him  I  didn't  know  dat  ar,  and  didn't  reckon 
he  did.  Den  he  out  wid  de  paper  an'  read  it  ober  ter  me, 
an'  shure  'nough,  dar  'tis,  dough  I'll  swar  I  nebber  heerd 
nothin'  on't  afo'.  Nebber  hed  no  sech  ting  in  de  papers 
when  de  Bureau  man  drawed  'em  up,  dat's  shuah." 

"  How  de  debble  yer  come  ter  sign  sech  a  paper, 
Berry?"  said  Nimbus. 

"  Dod  burned  ef  I  know,  Cousin   Nimbus.      Jes  kase 


A    BLACK  DEMOCRITUS.  195 

I  don"  know  no  better,  I  s'pose.  How  I  gwine  ter 
know  what's  in  dat  paper,  hey  ?  Does  you  read  all  de 
papers  yer  signs,  Squar'  Nimbus  ?  Not  much,  I  reckons  ; 
but  den  you  keeps  de  minister  right  h'yer  ter  han'  tu 
read  'em  for  ye.  Can't  all  ob  us  afford  dat,  Bre'er 
Nimbus." 

'  Yah,  yah,   dat's    so  !"      "  Good  for   you,   Berry  !" 
from  the  crowd. 

"  Wai,  yer  orter  hev  a  guardian — all  on  us  ought,  for 
dat  matter,"  said  Nimbus  ;  "  but  I  don't  s'pose  dere's 
ary  man  in  de  country  dat  would  sign  sech  a  paper  ef  he 
know'd  it,  an'  nobody  but  Granville  Sykes  that  would 
hev  thought  of  sech  a  dodge." 

"  It's  jes  so  in  mine,"  said  one  of  the  bystanders. 
"  And  in  mine  ;"  "  an'  mine,"  added  one  and  another. 

41  And  has  any  one  else  offered  to  turn  men  off  for 
comin'  here?"  asked  Nimbus. 

To  his  surprise,  he  learned  that  two  thirds  the  men  in 
the  crowd  had  been  thus  threatened. 

14  Jes  let  'em  try  it  !"  he  exclaimed,  angrily.  "  Dey 
dassent  do  it,  nohow.  They'll  find  out  dat  a  man 
can't  be  imposed  on  allus,  ef  he  is  pore  an'  black.  Dat 
dey  will  !  I'se  only  jes  a  pore  man,  but  I  hain't  enny 
sech  mean  cuss  ez  to  stan'  roun'  an'  see  my  race  an'  kin 
put  on  in  dat  ar  way,  I  hain't." 

"  All  right,  Cousin  Nimbus,  ef  Marse  Sykes  turns  me 
outen  house  an'  home,  I  knows  right  whar  I  comes  ter, 
now." 

"  Co'se  yer  do,"  said  Nimbus,  proudly.  'Yer  jes 
comes  ter  me  an'  I  takes  keer  on  ye.  I  needs  anudder 
han'  in  de  crap,  ennyhow." 

"  Now,  Cousin  Nimbus,  yer  ain't  in  airnest,  is  yer  ? 
Yer  don't  mean  dat,  pop-suah,  does  yer  now?"  asked 
Berry  anxiously. 


I96  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Dat  I  does,  Cousin  Berry  !  dat  I  does  !"  was  the 
hearty  response. 

"  Whoop,  hurrah  !"  cried  Berry,  throwing  up  his  hat, 
turning  a  hand-spring,  and  catching  the  hat  as  it  came 
down.  "  Whar's  dat  Sally  Ann  ?  H'yeah,  you  fellers, 
clar  away  dar  an'  let  me  come  at  her.  H'yer  I  goes 
now,  I  jes  tole  her  dis  yer  bressed  mornin'  dat  it  tuk  a 
fool  fer  luck.  Hi-yah  !"  he  cried,  executing  a  som- 
mersault,  and  diving  through  the  crowd  he  ran  away. 
As  he  started  off,  he  saw  his  wife  walking  along  the 
road  toward  Nimbus'  house  by  the  side  of  Eliab  Hill  in 
his  rolling-chair.  Berry  dashed  back  into  the  circle 
where  Nimbus  was  engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with 
the  crowd  in  relation  to  the  threats  which  had  been 
made  to  them  by  their  employers. 

"  H'yer,  Cousin  Nimbus,"  he  cried,  "  I  done  fcrgot 
ter  thank  ye,  I  was  dat  dar'  flustered  by  good  luck,  yer 
know.  I'se  a  t'ousan'  times  obleeged  ter  ye,  Bre'er 
Nimbus,  jes'  a  t'ousan'  times, an'  h'yer's  Sally  Ann, 
right  outside  on  de  road  h'yer,  she'll  be  powerful  glad 
ter  hear  on't.  I'd  jes  ez  lief  wuk  fer  you  as  a  white 
man,  Bre'er  Nimbus.  I  ain't  proud,  I  ain't  !  Yah  ! 
yah  !" 

He  dragged  Nimbus  through  the  crowd  to  intercept 
his  wife,  crying  out  as  soon  as  they  came  near  : 

"  H'yer,  you  Sally  Ann,  what  yer  links  now  ?  H'yer's 
Bre'er  Nimbus  sez  dat  ef  dat  ole  cuss,  Marse  Sykes, 
should  happen  ter  turn  us  off,  he's  jest  a  gwine  ter  take 
us  in  bag  an'  baggage,  traps,  chillen  and  calamities,  an'  gib 
us  de  bes'  de  house  affo'ds,  an'  wuk  in  de  crap  besides. 
What  yer  say  now,  you  Sally  Ann,  ain't  yer  'shamed  fer 
what  yer  sed  'bout  Bre'er  Nimbus  only  dis  yere  mornin'  ?' ' 

"Dat  I  be,  Cousin  Nimbus."  said  Sally,  turning  a 
comely  but  careworn  face  toward  Nimbus,  and  extending 


A    DOUBLE-HEADED  ARGUMENT.  197 

her  hand  with  a  smile.  "  Bre'er  'Liab  was  jest  a-tellin' 
me  what  a  fool  I  was  ter  ever  feel  so  toward  jes  de  bes' 
man  in  de  kentry,  ez  he  sez." 

"  An'  I  be  damned  ef  he  ain't  right,  too,"  chimed  in 
Berry. 

"  Sho,  you  Berry.  Ain't  yer  'shamed  now — usin' 
cuss-words  afore  de  minister  !"  said  Sally. 

"  Beg  yer  parding,  Bre'er  Hill, "said  Berry,  taking  off 
his  hat,  and  bowing  with  mock  solemnity  to  that  worthy. 
"  Hit's  been  sech  a  long  time  sence  Sunday  come  ter 
our  house  dat  I  nigh  'bout  forgot  my  'ligion." 

"  An'  yer  manners  too,"  said  Sally  briskly,  turning 
from  her  conversation  with  Nimbus. 

"  Jes  so,  Bre'er  Hill,  but  yer  see  I  was  dat'ar  fluster 
ed  by  my  ole  woman  takin'  on  so  'bout  dat  ar  sneakin' 
cuss  ob  a  Marse  Sykes  a  turnin'  on  us  off,  dat  I  hardly 
knowed  which  from  todder,  an'  when  Cousin  Nimbus 
'greed  ter  take  me  up  jes  de  minnit  he  dropped  me 
down,  hit  kinder  tuk  me  off  my  whoopendickilar,  yer 
know." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    DOUBLE-HEADED    ARGUMENT. 

THE  attempt  to  prevent  the  attendance  of  voters  at 
the  meeting,  showing  as  it  did  a  preconcerted  purpose 
and  design  on  the  part  of  the  employers  to  use  their 
power  as  such,  to  overcome  their  political  opponents, 
was  the  cause  of  great  indignation  at  the  meeting,  and 
gave  occasion  for  some  flights  of  oratory  which  would 
have  fallen  upon  dull  ears  but  for  the  potent  truth  on 
which  they  were  based.  Even  the  cool  and  cautious 


198  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Eliab  Hill  could  not  restrain  himself  from  an  allusion  to 
the  sufferings  of  his  people  when  he  was  raised  upon  the 
platform,  still  sitting  in  his  rolling-chair,  and  with 
clasped  hands  and  reverent  face  asked  God's  blessing 
upon  the  meeting  about  to  be  held. 

Especially  angry  was  our  friend  Nimbus  about  this  at 
tempt  to  deprive  his  race  of  the  reasonable  privileges  of  a 
citizen.  Perhaps  the  fact  that  he  was  himself  a  proprie 
tor  and  employer  rendered  him  still  more  jealous  of  the 
rights  of  his  less  fortunate  neighbors.  The  very  immunity 
which  he  had  from  any  such  danger  no  doubt  emboldened 
him  to  express  his  indignation  more  strongly,  and  after 
the  regular  speeches  had  been  made  he  mounted  the 
platform  and  made  a  vigorous  harangue  upon  the  necessity 
of  maintaining  the  rights  which  had  been  conferred  upon 
them  by  the  chances  of  war. 

"  We's  got  ter  take  keer  ob  ourselves, "  said  he.  "  De 
guv'ment  hez  been  doin'  a  heap  for  us.  It's  gin  us 
ourselves,  our  wives,  our  chillen,  an'  a  chance  ter  du 
fer  ourselves  an'  fer  dem  ;  an'  now  we's  got  ter  du  it.  Ef 
we  don't  stan'  togedder  an'  keep  de  white  folks  from 
a-takin'  away  what  we's^got,  we  nebber  gits  no  mo'.  In 
fac',  we  jes  goes  back'ards  instead  o'  forrards  till  yer  can't 
tell  de  difference  twixt  a  free  nigger  an'  a  rale  ole  time 
slave.  Dat's  my  'pinion,  an'  I  say  now's  de  time  ter 
begin — jes  when  dey  begins.  Ef  a  man  turns  off  ary 
single  one  fer  comin'  ter  dis  meetin'  evr'y  han'  dat  is 
ter  wuk  for  him  oughter  leave  him  to  once  an'  nary  col 
ored  man  ought  ter  do  a  stroke  ob  wuk  fer  him  till  he 
takes  'em  back." 

Loud  cheers  greeted  this  announcement,  but  one  old 
white-headed  man  arose  and  begged  leave  to  ask  him  a 
question,  which  being  granted, he  said  : 

"  Now,    feller  citizens,    I'se  been  a  listenin'  ter  all 


A    DOUBLE-HEADED   ARGUMENT.  199 

dat's  been  said  here  to-day,  an'  I'm  jest  ez  good  a 
'Publikin  ez  enny  ub  de  speakers.  Yer  all  knows  dat. 
But  I  can't  fer  de  life  ob  me  see  how  we's  gwine  ter 
carry  out  sech  advice.  Ef  we  leave  one  man,  how's  we 
gwine  ter  git  wuk  wid  anodder  ?  An'  ef  we  does,  ain't 
it  jest  a  shiftin'  ub  han's  ?  Does  it  make  ary  difference 
— at  least  enough  ter  speak  on — whether  a  white  man 
hez  his  wuk  done  by  one  nigger  er  another  ?" 

"But,"  said  Nimbus,  hotly,  "we  oughtn't  ter  none 
on  us  wuk  fer  him." 

11  Then,"  said  the  old  man,  "  what's  we  ter  do  fer  a 
libbin'  ?  Here's  half  er  two  thirds  ob  dis  crowd  likely  ter 
be  turned  off  afore  to-morrer  night.  Now  what's  yer 
gwine  ter  do  'bout  it  ?  We's  got  ter  lib  an'  so's  our 
wives  an'  chillens  ?  How's  we  gwine  ter  s'port  dem  wid- 
out  home  or  wuk  ?" 

"  Let  them  git  wuk  wid  somebody  else,  that's  all," 
said  Nimbus. 

"  Yes,  Bre'er  Nimbus,  but  who's  a-gwine  ter  s'port 
'em  while  we's  waitin'  fer  de  white  folks  ter  back  down, 
I  wants  ter  know  ?" 

"  1  will,"  said  Nimbus,  proudly. 

"  I  hain't  no  manner  ob  doubt,"  said  the  other,  "  dat 
Bre'er  Nimbus  '11  do  de  berry  bes'  dat  he  can  in  sech  a 
case,  but  he  must  'member  dat  he's  only  one  and  we's  a 
great  many.  He's  been  mighty  fortinit  an'  I'se  mighty 
glad  ter  know  it ;  but  jes  s'pose  ebbery  man  in  de  county 
dat  hires  a  han'  should  turn  him  off  kase  he  comes  ter 
dis  meetin'  an'  goes  ter  'lection,  what  could  Bre'er  Nim 
bus  du  towards  a  feedin'  on  us  ?  Ob  co'se,  dey's  got  ter 
hev  wuk  in  de  crop,  but  you  mus'  'member  dat  when  de 
'lection  comes  off  de  crap's  all  laid  by,  an'  der  ain't  no 
mo'  pressin'  need  fer  \vuk  fer  months  ter  come.  Now, 
how's  we  gwine  ter  lib  during  dat  time  ?  Whar's  we  gwine 


200  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

ter  lib  ?  De  white  folks  kin  stan'  it— dey's  got  all  dey  wants 
— but  we  can't.  Now,  what's  we  gwine  ter  do  ?  Jest  ez 
long  ez  de  guv'ment  stood  by  us  an'  seed  dat  we  hed  a 
fa'r  show,  we  could  stan'  by  de  guv'ment.  I'se  jest  ez 
good  a  'Publikin  ez  ennybody  h'yer,  yer  all  knows  dat  ; 
but  I  hain't  a  gwine  ter  buck  agin  impossibles,  I  ain't. 
I'se  got  a  sick  wife  an'  five  chillen.  I  ain't  a  gwine  ter 
bring  'em  nex'  do'  ter  starvation  'less  I  sees  some  use  in 
it.  Now,  I  don't  see  no  use  in  dis  h'yer  notion,  not  a 
bit.  Ef  de  white  folks  hez  made  up  der  minds — an'  hit 
seems  ter.  me  dey  hez — dat  cullu'd  folks  shan't  vote  'less 
dey  votes  wid  dem,  we  mout  jest  ez  well  gib  up  fust  as 
las'  !" 

"  Nebber  !  nebber,  by  God  !"  cried  Nimbus,  striding 
across  the  platform,  his  hands  clenched  and  the  veins 
showing  full  and  round  on  neck  and  brow.  The  cry 
was  echoed  by  nearly  all  present.  Shouts,  and  cheers, 
and  groans,  and  hisses  rose  up  in  an  indistinguishable 
roar. 

"  Put  him  out  !  Down  wid  him  !"  with  other  and 
fiercer  cries,  greeted  the  old  man's  ears. 

Those  around  him  began  to  jostle  and  crowd  upon 
him.  Already  violent  hands  were  upon  him,  when 
Eliab  Hill  dashed  up  the  inclined  plane  which  had  been 
made  for  his  convenience,  and,  whirling  himself  to  the 
side  of  Nimbus,  said,  as  he  pointed  with  flaming  face 
and  imperious  gesture  to  the  hustling  and  boisterous 
crowd  about  the  old  man, 

"  Stop  that  !" 

In  an  instant  Nimbus  was  in  the  midst  of  the  swaying 
crowd,  his  strong  arms  dashing  right  and  left  until  he 
stood  beside  the  now  terrified  remonstrant. 

"  Dar,  dar,  boys,  no  mo'  ob  dat,  "he  cried,  as  he 
pushed  the  howling  mass  this  way  and  that.  '  Jes  you 


A   DOUBLE-HEADED   ARGUMENT.  20 r 

listen  ter  Bre'er  'Liab.  Don't  yer  see  he's  a  talkin'  to 
yer  ?' '  he  said,  pointing  to  the  platform  where  Eliab  sat 
with  upraised  hand,  demanding  silence. 

When  silence  was  at  last  obtained  he  spoke  with  more 
earnestness  and  power  than  was  his  wont,  pleading  for 
moderation  and  thoughtfulness  for  each  other,  and  a 
careful  consideration  of  their  surroundings. 

"  There  is  too  much  truth,"  he  said,  "  in  all  that  has 
been  said  here  to-day.  Brother  Nimbus  is  right  in  saying 
that  we  must  guard  our  rights  and  privileges  most  care 
fully,  if  we  would  not  lose  them.  The  other  brother  is 
right,  too,  in  saying  that  but  few  of  us  can  exercise  those 
privileges  if  the  white  men  stand  together  and  refuse  em 
ployment  to  those  who  persist  in  voting  against  them. 
It  is  a  terrible  question,  fellow-citizens,  and  one  that  it 
is  hard  to  deal  with.  Everyman  should  do  his  duty  and 
vote,  and  act  as  a  citizen  whenever  called  upon  to  do  so, 
for  the  sake  of  his  race  in  the  future.  We  should  not  be 
weakly  and  easily  driven  from  what  has  been  gained  for 
us.  We  may  have  to  suffer — perhaps  to  fight  and  die  ; 
but  our  lives  are  nothing  to  the  inheritance  we  may  leave 
our  children. 

"  At  the  same  time  we  should  not  grow  impatient  with 
our  brethren  who  cannot  walk  with  us  in  this  way.  I 
believe  that  we  shall  win  from  this  contest  the  supreme 
seal  of  our  race's  freedom.  It  may  not  come  in  our 
time,  but  it  will  be  set  on  the  foreheads  of  our  children. 
At  all  events,  we  must  work  together,  aid  each  other, 
comfort  each  other,  stand  by  each  other.  God  has 
taught  us  patience  by  generations  of  suffering  and  wait 
ing,  and  by  the  light  which  came  afterwards.  We  should 
not  doubt  Him  now.  Let  us  face  our  danger  like  men  ; 
overcome  it  if  we  may,  and  if  not,  bow  to  the  force  of 
the  storm  and  gather  strength,  rooting  ourselves  deep 


202  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  wide  while  it  blows,  in  order  that  we  may  rise  erect 
and  free  when  it  shall  have  passed. 

"  But  above  all  things  there  must  be  no  disagreement. 
The  colored  people  must  stand  or  fall  together.  Those 
who  have  been  as  fortunate  as  our  Brother  Nimbus  may 
breast  the  tempest,  and  we  must  all  struggle  on  and  up 
to  stand  beside  them.  It  will  not  do  to  weakly  yield  or 
rashly  fight.  Remember  that  our  people  are  on  trial, 
and  more  than  mortal  wisdom  is  required  of  us  by  those 
who  have  stood  our  friends.  Let  us  show  them  that  we 
are  men,  not  only  in  courage  to  do  and  dare,  but  also 
to  wait  and  suffer.  Let  the  young  and  strong,  and 
those  who  have  few  children,  who  have  their  own  homes 
or  a  few  months'  provision,  let  them  bid  defiance  to  those 
who  would  oppress  us  ;  but  let  us  not  require  those  to 
join  us  who  are  not  able  or  willing  to  take  the  worst 
that  may  come.  Remember  that  while  others  have 
given  us  freedom,  we  must  work  and  struggle  and  wait 
for  liberty — that  liberty  which  gives  as  well  as  receives, 
self-supporting,  self-protecting,  holding  the  present  and 
looking  to  the  future  with  confidence.  We  must  be  as 
free  of  the  employer  as  we  are  of  the  master — free  of 
the  white  people  as  they  are  of  us.  It  will  be  a  long, 
hard  struggle,  longer  and  harder  than  we  have  known 
perhaps  ;  but  as  God  lives,  we  shall  triumph  if  we  do 
but  persevere  with  wisdom  and  patience,  and  trust  in  Him 
who  brought  us  up  out  of  the  Egypt  of  bondage  and  set 
before  our  eyes  the  Canaan  of  liberty." 

The  effect  of  this  address  was  the  very  opposite  of 
what  Eliab  had  intended.  His  impassioned  references 
to  their  imperilled  liberty,  together  with  his  evident  ap 
prehension  of  even  greater  danger  than  was  then  appar 
ent,  accorded  so  poorly  with  his  halting  counsel  for  mod 
eration  that  it  had  the  effect  to  arouse  the  minds  of 


A    DOUBLE-HEADED   ARGUMENT.  203 

his  hearers  to  resist  such  aggression  even  at  every  risk. 
So  decided  was  this  feeling  that  the  man  whom  Nimbus 
had  just  rescued  from  the  rudeness  of  those  about  him 
and  who  had  been  forgotten  during  the  remarks  of  the 
minister,  now  broke  forth  and  swinging  his  hat  about  his 
head,  shouted  : 

'  Three  cheers  for  'Liab  Hill  !  an'  I  tells  yer  what, 
brudderin',  dat  ef  dis  yer  is  ter  be  a  fight  fer  takin'  keer 
ob  de  freedom  we's  got,  I'se  in  fer  it  as  fur  ez  ennybody. 
We  must  save  the  crap  that's  been  made,  ef  we  don't 
pitch  ary  other  one  in  our  day  at  all.  Them's  my  no 
tions,  an'  I'll  stan'  by  'em — er  die  by  'em  ef  wust  comes 
ter  wust." 

Then  there  was  a  storm  of  applause,  some  ringing  res 
olutions  were  adopted,  and  the  meeting  adjourned  to 
discuss  the  barbecue  and  talk  patriotism  with  each  other. 

There  was  much  clamor  and  boasting.  The  candidates, 
in  accordance  with  a  time-honored  custom  in  that  region, 
had  come  prepared  to  treat,  and  knowing  that  no  liquor 
could  be  bought  at  Red  Wing,  had  brought  a  liberal  sup 
ply,  which  was  freely  distributed  among  the  voters. 

On  account  of  the  large  majority  of  colored  voters  in 
this  country,  no  attempt  had  previously  been  made  to 
influence  them  in  this  manner,  so  that  they  were  greatly 
excited  by  this  threat  of  coercion.  Of  course,  they  talked 
very  loud,  and  many  boasts  were  made,  as  to  what 
they  would  do  if  the  white  people  persisted  in  the  course 
indicated.  There  was  not  one,  however,  who  in  his 
drunkest  moment  threatened  aught  against  their  white 
neighbors  unless  they  were  unjustly  debarred  the  rights 
which  the  law  conferred  upon  them.  They  wanted  "  a 
white  man's  chance."  That  was  all. 

There  was  no  such  resolution  passed,  but  it  was  gener 
ally  noised  abroad  that  the  meeting  had  resolved  that 


204  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

any  planter  who  discharged  a  hand  for  attending  that 
meeting  would  have  the  privilege  of  cutting  and  curing 
his  tobacco  without  help.  As  this  was  the  chief  crop  of 
the  region,  and  one  admitting  of  no  delay  in  its  harvest 
ing  and  curing,  it  was  thought  that  this  would  prove  a 
sufficient  guaranty  of  fair  treatment.  However,  a  com 
mittee  was  appointed  to  look  after  this  matter,  and  the 
day  which  had  seemed  to  dawn  so  inauspiciously  left 
the  colored  voters  of  that  region  more  united  and  de 
termined  than  they  had  ever  been  before. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

TAKEN      AT      HIS     WORD 

IT  was  past  midnight  of  the  day  succeeding  the  meet 
ing,  when  Nimbus  was  awakened  by  a  call  at  his  front 
gate.  Opening  the  door  he  called  out  : 

"  Who's  dar?" 

"  Nobody  but  jes  we  uns,  Bre'er  Nimbus,"  replied 
the  unmistakable  voice  of  Berry.  "  H'yer  we  is,  bag 
an*  baggage,  traps  an'  calamities,  jest  ez  I  tole  yer.  Call 
off  yer  dogs,  ef  yer  please,  an'  come  an'  'scort  us  in  as  yer 
promised.  H'yer  we  is — Sally  an*  me  an*  Bob  an'  Mariar 
an'  Bill  an'  Jim  an'  Sally  junior — an'  fo*  God  I  can't  get 
fru  de  roll-call  alone.  Sally,  you  jest  interduce  Cousin 
Nimbus  ter  de  rest  ob  dis  family,  will  yer  ?" 

Sure  enough,  on  coming  to  the  gate,  Nimbus  found 
Berry  and  Sally  there  with  their  numerous  progeny, 
several  bundles  of  clothing  and  a  few  household  wares. 

"  Why,  what  does  dis  mean,  Berry  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Mean  ?  Yah,  yah!  "  said  the  mercurial  Berry. 
"  Wai  now,  ain't  dat  cool  ?  H'yer  he  axes  me  ter  come 


TAKEN  AT  HIS   WORD.  205 

ter  his  house  jest  ez  soon  ez  ever  Marse  Granville  routs 
us  offen  his  plantation,  an'  ez  soon's  ever  we  comes  he 
wants  ter  know  what  it  means  !  How's  dat  fer  cousinin', 
eh  ?  Now  don't  yer  cry,  Sally  Ann.  Jes  yer  wait  till 
I  tell  Cousin  Nimbus  de  circumstanshuels  an'  see  ef  he 
don't  ax  us  inside  de  gate." 

"  Oh,  Cousin  Nimbus,"  said  Sally,  weeping  piteously, 
"  don't  yer  go  ter  fault  us  now — don't  please.  Hit 
warn't  our  fault  at  all  ;  leastways  we  didn't  mean  it  so. 
I  did  tell  Berry  he'd  better  stay  an'  du  what  Marse  Sykes 
wanted  him  ter,  'stead  of  comin'  tu  der  meetin',  an'  my 
mind  misgive  me  all  day  kase  he  didn't.  But  I  didn't 
look  for  no  sech  bad  luck  as  we've  hed." 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  gal,"  said  Nimbus,  soothingly,  as 
he  opened  the  gate,  "  an'  we'll  talk  it  all  ober  in  de 
mornin'." 

"  Oh,  der  ain't  nuffin'  mo'  to  be  told,  Squar',"  said 
Berry,  "  on'y  when  we  done  got  home  we  foun'  dis  yer 
truck  outdoors  in  the  road,  an'  de  chillen  at  a  neighbor's 
cryin'  like  de  mischief.  De  house  was  locked  up  an* 
nailed  up  besides.  I  went  down  ter  Marse  Sykes'  an'  seed 
him,  atter  a  gret  while,  but  he  jes  sed  he  didn't  know 
nothin'  'bout  it,  only  he  wanted  the  house  fer  somebody 
ez  'ud  wuk  when  he  tole  'em  tu,  instead  ub  gaddin' 
roun'  ter  p'litcal  meetins  ;  an'  ez  my  little  traps  hap 
pened  ter  be  in  de  way  he'd  jes  sot 'em  inter  de  big-road, 
so  dey'd  be  handy  when  I  come  ter  load  'em  on  ter  take 
away.  So  we  jes  take  de  lightest  on  'em  an*  de  chillen 
an'  corned  on  ter  take  up  quarters  wid  you  cordin'  ter 
de  'rangement  we  made  yesterday." 

"  Dat's  all  right  ;  jes  right,"  said  Nimbus  ;  "  but  I 
don't  understand  it  quite.  Do  yer  mean  ter  say  dat 
Marse  Sykes  turn  you  uns  offen  his  plantation  while 


206  BRICfCS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

you'se  all   away,  jes   kase  yer  come  ter  de  meetin'  yes 
terday  ?" 

Nuffin'  else  in  de  libbin  yairth.  Jes  put  us  out  an* 
lock  de  do'  an'  nailed  up  de  winders,  an'  lef  de  tings  in 
de  big-road." 

"  But  didn't  ycr  leave  the  house  locked  when  you 
came  here  ?" 

"  Nary  bit.  Nebber  lock  de  do'  at  all.  Got  no  lock, 
ner  key,  ner  nuffin'  ter  steal  ub  enny  account  ef  enny 
body  should  want  ter  break  in.  So  what  I  lock  de  do' 
fer  ?  Jes  lef  de  chillen  wid  one  ob  de  neighbors,  drawed 
do'  tu,  an'  comes  on.  Dat's  all." 

"  An'  he  goes  in  an'  takes  de  tings  out  ?  We'll  hab 
de  law  ob  him  ;  dat  we  will,  Berry.  De  law' 11  fotch 
him,  pop  sure.  Dey  can't  treat  a  free  man  dat  'ere  way 
no  mo',  specially  sence  de  constooshunel  'mendments. 
Dat  dey  can't." 

So  Berry  became  an  inmate  of  Castle  Nimbus,  and  the 
next  day  that  worthy  proprietor  went  over  to  Louisburg 
to  lay  the  matter  before  Captain  Pardee,  who  was  now  a 
practising  lawyer  in  that  city.  He  returned  at  night  and 
found  Berry  outside  the  gate  with  a  banjo  which  he 
accounted  among  the  most  precious  of  his  belongings, 
entertaining  a  numerous  auditory  with  choice  selections 
from  an  extensive  repertory. 

Berry  was  a  consummate  mimic  as  well  as  an  excel 
lent  singer,  and  his  fellows  were  never  tired  either  of  his 
drolleries  or  his  songs.  Few  escaped  his  mimicry,  and 
nothing  was  too  sacred  for  his  wit.  When  Nimbus  first 
came  in  sight,  he  was  convulsing  his  hearers  by  imitating 
a  well-known  colored  minister  of  the  county,  giving  out 
a  hymn  in  the  most  pompous  manner. 

"  De  congregashun  will  now  rise  an'  sing,  ef  yer  please, 


TAKEN  A  T  HIS  WORD.  207 

the  free  hundred  an'   ferty-ferd  hime"     Thereupon  he 
began  to  sing  : 

"  Sinner-mans  will  yer  go 

To  de  high  lans'  o'  Hebben, 
Whar  de  sto'ms  nebber  blow 
An'  de  mild  summer's  gibben  ? 
Will  yer  go  ?  will  yer  go  ? 
Will  yer  go,  sinner-mans  ? 
Oh,  say.  sinner-mans,  will  yer  go  ?" 

Then,  seeing  Nimbus  approach,  he  changed  at  once  to 
a  political  song. 

"  De  brack  man's  gittin*  awful  rich 

The  people  seems  ter  fear, 
Alt'ough  he  'pears  to  git  in  debt 

A  little  ebbery  year. 
Ob  co'se  he  gits  de  biggest  kind 

Ob  wages  ebbery  day, 
But  when  he  comes  to  settle  up 

Dey  dwindles  all  away. 

"  Den  jes  fork  up  de  little  tax 

Dat's  laid  upon  de  poll. 

It's  jes  de  tax  de  state  exac's 

Fer  habben  ob  a  soul  !" 

"  Yer  got  no  Ian',  yer  got  no  cash, 

Yer  only  got  some  debts  ; 
Yer  couldn't  take  de  bankrupt  law 

'Cos  ye  hain't  got  no  '  assets.' 
De  chillen  dey  mus'  hev  dere  bread  ; 

De  mudder's  gettin'  olef 
So  darkey,  you  mus'  skirmish  roun' 
.  An'  pay  up  on  yer  poll." 

"  Den  jes  fork  up  de  little  tax,  etc. 

"  Yer  know's  yer's  wuked  dis  many  a  year, 
To  buy  de  land  for  '  Marster, ' 


2°8  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

An'  now  yer  orter  pay  de  tax 

So  't  he  kin  hold  it  faster. 
He  wuks  one  acre  'n  ebbery  ten, 

De  odders  idle  stan'  ; 
So  pay  de  tax  upon  yo're  poll 

An'  take  it  off  his  Ian". 

Den  jes  fork  up  de  little  tax,  etc.  . 

"  Oh  !  dat's  de  song  dat  some  folks  sing  ! 

Say,  how  d'y'e  like  de  soun*  ? 
Dev  say  de  pore  man  orter  pay 

For  walktn'  on  de  groun'  ! 
When  cullud  men  was  slaves,  yer  know', 

'Twas  drefful  hard  to  tax  'em  ; 
But  jes  de  minnit  dat  dey's  free, 

God  save  us  !  how  dey  wax  'em  ! 

"  Den  jes  fork  up  de  little  tax,  etc." 

"What  you  know  'bout  poll-tax,  Berry?"  asked 
Nimbus,  good-naturedly,  when  the  song  was  ended. 
"  Yer  hain't  turned  politician,  hez  yer  ?" 

"  What  I  know  'bout  poll-tax,  Squar'  Nimbus?  Dat 
what  yer  ax  ?  Gad  !  I  knows  all  'bout  'em,  dat  I  do, 
from  who  tied  de  dog  loose.  Who'se  a  better  right,  I'd 
like  ter  know  ?  I'se  paid  it,  an'  ole  Marse  Sykes  hes 
paid  it  for  me  ;  an'  den  I'sc  hed  ter  pay  him  de  tax  an* 
half  a  dollah  for  'tendin'  ter  de  biznis  for  me.  An' 
den,  one  time  I'se  been  'dieted  for  not  payin'  it,  an' 
Marse  Sykes  tuk  it  up,  an'  I  hed  ter  wuk  out  de  tax  an' 
de  costs  besides.  Den  I'se  hed  ter  wuk  de  road  ebbery 
yeah  some  eight  er  ten  days,  an'  den  wuk  nigh  'bout  ez 
many  more  fer  my  grub  while  I  wuz  at  it.  Oh,  I 
knows  'bout  poll-tax,  /does!  Dar  can't  nobody  tell  a 
nigger  wid  five  er  six  chillen  an'  a  sick  wife,  dat's  a  wuk- 
kin'  by  de  yeah  an*  a  gettin'  his  pay  in  ole  clo'es  an* 
orders — dar  can't  nobody  teach  him  nothin'  'bout  poll- 
tax,  honey  !" 


TAKEN  AT  HIS   WORD.  209 

There  was  a  laugh  at  this  which  showed  that  his  list 
eners  agreed  fully  with  the  views  he  had  expressed. 

The  efforts  to  so  arrange  taxation  as  to  impose  as 
large  a  burden  as  possible  upon  the  colored  man,  imme 
diately  after  his  emancipation,  were  very  numerous  and 
not  unfrequently  extremely  subtle.  The  Black  Codes, 
which  were  adopted  by  the  legislatures  first  convened  under 
what  has  gone  into  history  as  the  "  Johnsonian  "  plan 
of  reconstruction,  were  models  of  ingenious  subterfuge. 
Among  those  which  survived  this  period  was  the  absurd 
notion  of  a  somewhat  onerous  poll-tax.  That  a  man 
who  had  been  deprived  of  every  benefit  of  government 
and  of  all  means  of  self-support  or  acquisition,  should  at 
once  be  made  the  subject  of  taxation,  and  that  a  failure 
to  list  and  pay  such  tax  should  be  made  an  indictable 
offense,  savored  somewhat  of  the  ludicrous.  It  seemed 
like  taxing  the  privilege  of  poverty. 

Indeed,  the  poor  men  of  the  South,  including  the  re 
cent  slaves,  were  in  effect  compelled  to  pay  a  double 
poll-tax.  The  roads  of  that  section  are  supported  solely 
by  the  labor  of  those  living  along  their  course.  The 
land  is  not  taxed,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  country,  for 
the  support  of  those  highways  the  passability  of  which 
gives  it  value  ;  but  the  poor  man  who  travels  over  it  only 
on  foot  must  give  as  much  of  his  labor  as  may  be  requi 
site  to  maintain  it.  This  generally  amounts  to  a  period 
ranging  from  six  to  ten  days  of  work  per  annum.  In 
addition  to  this,  he  is  required  to  pay  a  poll-tax,  gener 
ally  about  two  dollars  a  year,  which  is  equivalent  to  at 
least  one  fourth  of  a  month's  pay.  During  both  these 
periods  he  must  board  himself. 

So  it  may  safely  be  estimated  that  the  average  taxes 
paid  by  a  colored  man  equals  one  half  or  two  thirds  of  a 
month's  wages,  even  when  he  has  not  a  cent  of  property, 


210  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  only  maintains  his  family  by  a  constant  miracle  of 
effort  which  would  be  impossible  but  for  the  harsh  train 
ing  which  slavery  gave  and  which  is  one  of  the  beneficent 
results  of  that  institution.  If  he  refuses  to  work  the 
road,  or  to  pay  or  list  the  poll-tax,  he  may  be  indicted, 
fined,  and  his  labor  sold  to  the  highest  bidder,  precisely 
as  in  the  old  slave-times,  to  discharge  the  fine  and  pay 
the  tax  and  costs  of  prosecution.  There  is  a  grim  humor 
about  all  this  which  did  not  fail  to  strike  the  colored  man 
and  induce  him  to  remark  its  absurdity,  even  when  he 
did  not  formulate  its  actual  character. 

A  thousand  things  tend  to  enhance  this  absurdity  and 
seeming  oppression  which  the  imagination  of  the  thought 
ful  reader  will  readily  supply.  One  is  the  self-evident 
advantage  which  this  state  of  things  gives  to  the  land 
owners.  By  it  they  are  enabled  to  hold  large  tracts  of 
land,  only  a  small  portion  of  which  is  cultivated  or  used 
in  any  manner.  By  refusing  to  sell  on  reasonable  terms 
and  in  small  parcels,  they  compel  the  freedmen  to  accept 
the  alternative  of  enormous  rents  and  oppressive  terms, 
since  starvation  is  the  only  other  that  remains  to  them. 

The  men  who  framed  these  laws  were  experts  in  legis 
lation  and  adepts  in  political  economy.  It  would  perhaps 
be  well  for  countries  which  are  to-day  wrestling  with  the 
question  :  "  What  shall  we  do  with  our  poor  ?"  to  con 
sider  what  was  the  answer  the  South  made  to  this  same 
inquiry.  There  were  four  millions  of  people  who  owned 
no  property.  They  were  not  worth  a  dollar  apiece.  Of 
lands,  tenements  and  hereditaments  they  had  none. 
Life,  muscle,  time,  and  the  clothes  that  conceal  naked 
ness  were  their  only  estate.  But  they  were  rich  in 
"  days'  works."  They  had  been  raised  to  work  and  liked 
it.  They  were  accustomed  to  lose  all  their  earnings,  and 
could  be  relied  on  to  endure  being  robbed  of  a  part,  and 


TAKEN  A  T  HIS  WORD.  2  I  r 

hardly  know  that  they  were  the  subject  of  a  new  experi 
ment  in  governmental  ways  and  means.  So,  the  domi 
nant  class  simply  taxed  the  possibilities  of  the  freedman's 
future,  and  lest  he  should  by  any  means  fail  to  recognize 
the  soundness  of  this  demand  for  tribute  and  neglect  to 
regard  it  as  a  righteous  exemplification  of  the  Word, 
which  declares  that  "  from  him  that  hath  not  shall  be 
taken  away  even  that  which  he  hath,"  they  frugally  pro 
vided  : 

1.  That  the  ignorant  or  inept  citizen  neglecting  to  list 
his  poll  for  taxation  should  be  liable  to  indictment  and 
fine  for  such  refusal  or  neglect. 

2.  That  if  unable  to  pay  such  tax  and  fine  and  the  costs 
of  prosecution,  he  should  be  imprisoned  and  his  labor 
sold  to  the  highest  bidder  until  this  claim  of  the  State 
upon  his  poverty  should  be  fully  redeemed. 

3.  That  the  employer  should  be  liable  to  pay  the  per 
sonal  taxes  of  his  employees,  and  might  recoup  himself 
from  any  wages  due  to  said  hirelings  or  to  become  due. 

4.  To   add   a  further   safeguard,    in   many    instances 
they  made  the  exercise  of  the  elective  franchise  depen 
dent  upon  the  payment  of  such  tax. 

Should  the  effete  monarchies  of  the  Old  World  ever 
deign  to  glance  at  our  civil  polity,  they  will  learn  that 
taxation  is  the  only  sure  and  certain  cure  for  pauperism, 
and  we  may  soon  look  for  their  political  economists  to 
ender  thanks  to  the  ' '  friends' '  of  the  former  slave  for  this 
•tscovery  of  a  specific  for  the  most  ancient  of  govern 
mental  ills  ! 

The  song  that  has  been  given  shows  one  of  the  views 
which  a  race  having  little  knowledge  of  political  economy 
took  of  this  somewhat  peculiar  but  perhaps  necessary 
measure  of  governmental  finance. 

The  group  broke  up  soon  after  Nimbus  arrived,  and 


212  BRICKS  WITHOUT   STRAW. 

Berry,  following  him  upon  the  porch  said,  as  he  laid  his 
banjo  in  the  window  : 

"  Wai,  an'  what  did  de  Cap'n  say  'bout  my  case  'gin 
Marse  Granville  Sykes  ?" 

"  He  said  you  could  indict  him,  an'  hev  him  fined  by 
de  court  ef  he  turned  yer  off  on  'count  ob  yer  perlitical 
principles." 

"  Bully  fer  de  Cap'n  !"  said  Berry,  "  dat's  what  I'll 
do,  straight  away.  Yah,  yah  !  won't  dat  er  be  fun,  jes 
makin'  ole  Mahs'r  trot  up  ter  de  lick-log  fer  meanness 
ter  a  nigger  ?  Whoop  !  h'yer  she  goes  !"  and  spreading 
his  hands  he  made  "  a  cart-wheel"  and  rolled  on  his 
outstretched  hands  and  feet  half  way  to  the  gate,  and 
then  turned  a  handspring  back  again,  to  show  his  ap 
proval  of  the  advice  given  by  the  attorney. 

"  An'  he  says,"  continued  Nimbus,  who  had  looked 
seriously  on  at  his  kinsman's  antics,  "  dat  yer  can  sue 
him  an'  git  yer  wages  fer  de  whole  year,  ef  yer  kin  show 
dat  he  put  yer  off  widout  good  reason." 

"  Der  ain't  no  mite  ob  trouble  'bout  dat  ar,  nary 
mite,"  said  Berry,  confidently.  "  You  knows  what  sort 
uv  a  wuk-hand  I  is  in  de  crap,  Bre'er  Nimbus  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  knows  dat,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  but  de  cap'n 
sez  dat  it  mout  take  two  or  tree  year  ter  git  dese  cases 
fru  de  court,  an'  dar  must,  of  co'se,  be  a  heap  ob  cost 
an'  trouble  'bout  'em." 

11  An'  he's  right  tu',  Bre'er  Nimbus,"  said  Berry  seri 
ously. 

"  Dat's  so,  Berry,"  answered  Nimbus,  "  an'  on  ac 
count  ob  dat,  an'  der  fac'  dat  yer  hain't  got  no  money 
an'  can't  afford  ter  resk  de  wages  dat  yer  family  needs 
ter  lib  on,  an'  'cause  'twould  make  smart  ob  feelin'  an'  yer 
don't  stan'  well  fer  a  fa'r  show  afore  de  court  an'  jury, 
kase  of  yer  color,  he  sez  yer'd  better  jes  thank  de  Lo'd 


TAKEN  AT  HIS  WORD.  213 

fer  gittin'  off  ez  well  ez  yer  hev,  an'  try  ter  look  out  fer 
breakers  in  de  futur.  He  sez  ez  how  it's  all  wrong  an' 
hard  an*  mean  an'  all  dat,  but  he  sez,  tu,  dat  yer  ain't  in 
no  sort  ob  fix  ter  make  a  fight  on't  wid  Marse  Sykes. 
Now,  what  you  think,  Berry  ?" 

The  person  addressed  twirled  his  narrow-brimmed  felt 
hat  upon  his  finger  for  a  time  and  then  said,  looking  sud 
denly  up  at  the  other  : 

"  Uncle  Nimbus,  Berry's  right  smart  ob  a  fool,  but 
damn  me  ef  I  don't  b'lieve  de  Cap'n's  in  de  right  on't. 
What  you  say,  now  ?" 

Nimbus  had  seated  himself  and  was  looking  toward 
the  darkening  west  with  a  gloomy  brow.  After  a  mo 
ment's  silence  he  said  : 

"  I'se  mighty  feared  yer  both  right,  Bre'er  Berry. 
But  it  certain  ar'  a  mighty  easy  way  ter  git  wuk  fer 
nothin',  jes  ter  wait  till  de  crap's  laid  by  an'  den  run  a 
man  off  kase  he  happens  ter  go  ter  a  political  meetin'  ! 
'Pears  like  tain't  much  more  freedom  dan  we  hed  in  ole 
slave-times." 

"  Did  it  ebber  'ccur  ter  you.  Uncle  Nimbus,"  said 
Berry,  very  thoughtfully,  "  dat  dis  yer  ting  freedom  waz 
a  durn  curus  affair  fer  we  cullud  people,  ennyhow  ?" 

*'  Did  it  ever?  Wai,  now,  I  should  tink  it  hed,  an' 
hit  'ccurs  ter  me  now  dat  it's  growin'  quarer  anf  quarer 
ebbery  day.  Though  I'se  had  less  on't  ter  bear  an' 
puzzle  over  than  a-most  enny  on  ye,  dat  I  hez,  I  don't 
know  whar  it'll  wuk  out.  'Liab  sez  de  Lord's  a  doin* 
His  own  wuk  in  His  own  way,  which  I  'specs  is  true  ; 
but  hit's  a  big  job,  an'  He's  got  a  quare  way  ob  gittin'  at 
it,  an'  seems  ter  be  a-takin'  His  own  time  fer  it,  tu.  Dat's 
my  notion." 

It  was  no  doubt  childish  for  these  two  simple-minded 
colored  men  to  take  this  gloomy  view  of  their  surround- 


2  1 4  BRICKS  IV I THO  U T  S TRA  W. 

ings  and  their  future.  They  should  have  realized  that 
the  fact  that  their  privileges  were  insecure  and  their 
rights  indefensible  was  their  own  misfortune,  perhaps 
even  their  fault.  They  should  have  remembered  that 
the  susceptibilities  of  that  race  among  whom  their  lot 
had  been  cast  by  the  compulsion  of  a  strange  provi 
dence,  were  such  as  to  be  greatly  irritated  by  anything 
like  a  manly  and  independent  exercise  of  rights  by  those 
who  had  been  so  long  accounted  merely  a  superior  sort 
of  cattle.  They  should  not  have  been  at  all  surprised 
to  find  their  race  helpless  and  hopeless  before  the  trained 
and  organized  power  of  the  whites,  controlled  by  the  in 
stinct  of  generations  and  animated  by  the  sting  of  defeat. 

All  this  should  have  been  clear  and  plain  to  them,  and 
they  should  have  looked  with  philosophic  calmness  on 
the  abstract  rights  which  the  Nation  had  conferred 
and  solemnly  guaranteed  to  them,  instead  of  troubling 
themselves  about  the  concrete  wrongs  they  fancied  they 
endured.  Why  should  Berry  Lawson  care  enough  about 
attending  a  political  meeting  to  risk  provoking  his  em 
ployer's  displeasure  by  so  doing  ;  or  why,  after  being 
discharged,  should  he  feel  angry  at  the  man  who  had 
merely  enforced  the  words  of  his  own  contract  ?  He 
was  a  free  man  ;  he  signed  the  contract,  and  the 
courts  were  open  to  him  as  they  were  to  others,  if  he  was 
wronged.  What  reason  was  there  for  complaint  or  ap 
prehension,  on  his  part  ? 

Yet  mapy  a  wiser  head  than  that  of  Berry  Lawson,  or 
even  that  of  his  more  fortunate  kinsman,  the  many-named 
Nimbus,  has  been  sorely  puzzled  to  understand  how 
ignorance  and  poverty  and  inexperience  should  maintain 
the  right,  preserve  and  protect  themselves  against  oppos 
ing  wisdom,  wealth  and  malicious  skill,  according  to 
the  spirit  and  tenor  of  the  Reconstruction  Acts.  But  it 


TAKEN  AT  HIS  WORD.  215 

is  a  problem  which  ought  to  trouble  no  one,  since  it 
has  been  enacted  and  provided  by  the  Nation  that  all 
such  persons  shall  have  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of 
citizens.  That  should  suffice. 

However,  the  master-key  to  the  feeling  which  these 
colored  men  noted  and  probed  in  their  quiet  evening  talk 
was  proclaimed  aloud  by  the  county  newspaper  which, 
commenting  on  the  meeting  at  Red  Wing  and  the  dismissal 
of  a  large  number  of  colored  people  who  attended  it  in 
opposition  to  the  wish  of  their  employers,  said  : 

"  Our  people  are  willing  that  the  colored  man  should  have  all 
his  rights  of  person  and  of  ptopcrty  ;  we  desire  to  promote  his 
material  welfare  ;  but  when  he  urges  his  claim  to  political  right,  he 
offers  a  flagrant  insult  to  the  white  race.  We  have  no  sympathy 
to  waste  on  negro-politicians  or  those  who  sympathize  with  and 
encourage  them."  * 

The  people  of  Horsford  county  had  borne  a  great  deal 
from  negro-domination.  New  men  had  come  into  office 
by  means  of  colored  votes,  and  the  old  set  to  whom 
office  had  become  a  sort  of  perquisite  were  deprived 
thereby  of  this  inherited  right.  The  very  presence  of 
Nimbus  and  a  few  more  who  like  him  were  prosperous, 
though  in  a  less  degree,  had  been  a  constant  menace  to 
the  peace  of  a  community  which  looked  with  peculiar 
jealousy  upon  the  colored  man  in  his  new  estate.  This 
might  have  been  endured  with  no  evil  results  had  their 
prosperity  been  attended  with  that  humility  which  should 
characterize  a  race  so  lately  lifted  from  servitude  to 
liberty.  It  was  the  "  impudent"  assertion  of  their 
"rights"  that  so  aggravated  and  enraged  the  people 
among  whom  they  dwelt.  It  was  not  so  much  the  fact  of 
their  having  valuable  possessions,  and  being  entitled  to 
pay  for  their  labor,  that  was  deemed  such  an  outrage  on 

*  Taken  from  the  Patritt- Democrat,  Clinton,  La.,  Oct.  1876. 


2 1 6  BRICKS  WIT  HO  UT  S  TRA  W. 

the  part  of  the  colored  race,  but  that  they  should  openly 
and  offensively  use  those  possessions  to  assert  those 
rights  and  continually  hold  language  which  only  "  white 
men"  had  a  right  to  use.  This  was  more  than  a  com 
munity,  educated  as  the  Southerners  had  been;  could 
be  expected  peaceably  to  endure. 

As  a  farmer,  a  champion  tobacco -grower  and  curer, 
as  the  most  prosperous  man  of  his  race  in  that  section, 
Horsford  was  not  without  a  certain  pride  in  Nimbus  ; 
but  when  he  asserted  the  right  of  his  people  to  attend  a 
political  meeting  without  let  or  hindrance,  losing  only 
from  their  wages  as  hirelings  the  price  of  the  time  thus 
absent,  he  was  at  once  marked  down  as  a  "  dangerous" 
man.  And  when  it  was  noised  abroad  that  he  had  pro 
posed  that  all  the  colored  men  of  the  county  should 
band  together  to  protect  themselves  against  this  evil,  as 
he  chose  to  regard  it,  he  was  at  once  branded  not  only 
as  "  dangerous"  but  as  a  "  desperate"  and  4<  pestifer 
ous"  nigger,  instead  of  being  considered  merely  "  sassy," 
as  theretofore. 

So  this  meeting  and  its  results  had  the  effect  to  make 
Nimbus  far  more  active  ir  political  matters  than  he  had 
ever  been  before,  since  he  honestly  believed  that  their 
rights  could  only  be  conserved  by  their  political  co-opera 
tion.  To  secure  this  lie  travelled  about  the  country  all 
the  time  he  could  spare  from  his  crop,  visiting  the  dif 
ferent  plantations  ur.d  urging  his  political  friends  to  stand 
1  firm  and  not  be  coaxed  or  driven  away  from  the  per 
formance  of  thei)  political  duty.  By  this  means  he  be 
came  very  "  obnoxious"  to  the  "  best  people"  of  Hors 
ford,  and  precipitated  a  catastrophe  that  might  easily 
have  been  avoided  had  he  been  willing  to  enjoy  his  own 
good  fortune,  instead  of  clamoring  about  the  collective 
rights  of  his  race. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

MOTES    IN    THE    SUNSHINE. 

MOLLIE  AINSLIE'S  third  year  of  teacher's  life  was 
drawing  near  its  close.  She  had  promised  her  brother  to 
remain  at  the  South  during  that  time  in  order  that  she 
might  escape  the  perils  of  their  native  climate.  She 
was  of  vigorous  constitution  but  of  slight  build,  and  he 
dreaded  lest  the  inherited  scourge  should  take  an  inera 
dicable  hold  upon  her  system.  She  had  passed  her 
school-girl  life  with  safety  ;  but  he  rightly  judged  that 
a  few  years  in  the  genial  climate  where  she  then  was 
would  do  very  much  toward  enabling  her  to  resist  the 
approaches  of  disease. 

The  work  in  which  she  had  been  engaged  had  demand 
ed  all  her  energies  and  commanded  all  her  devotion. 
Commencing  with  the  simplest  of  rudimentary  training 
she  had  carried  some  of  her  pupils  along  until  a  fair 
English  education  had  been  achieved.  One  of  these 
pupils  had  already  taken  the  place  vacated  a  few  months 
before  by  Lucy  Ellison,  since  which  time  Mollie  had 
occupied  alone  the  north  rooms  of  the  old  hostelry — a 
colored  family  who  occupied  the  other  portion  serving 
as  protectors,  and  bringing  her  meals  to  her  own  apart 
ments.  A  friend  had  spent  a  portion  of  this  time  with 
her,  a  schoolmate  whose  failing  health  attested  the  wis 
dom  of  the  condition  her  dying  brother  had  imposed  in 
regard  to  herself.  As  the  warm  weather  approached  this 
friend  had  returned  to  her  New  England  home,  and 
Mollie  Ainslie  found  herself  counting  the  days  when  she 
might  also  take  her  flight. 

Her  work  had  not  grown  uninteresting,  nor  had  she  lost 
217 


218  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

any  of  her  zeal  for  the  unfortunate  race  she  had  striven 
to  uplift  ;  but  her  heart  was  sick  of  the  terrible  isolation 
that  her  position  forced  upon  her.  She  had  never  once 
thought  of  making  companions,  in  the  ordinary  sense,  of 
those  for  whom  she  labored.  They  had  been  so  entirely 
foreign  to  her  early  life  that,  while  she  labored  unremit 
tingly  for  their  advancement  and  entertained  for  many 
of  them  the  most  affectionate  regard,  there  was  never 
any  inclination  to  that  friendly  intimacy  which  would 
have  been  sure  to  arise  if  her  pupils  had  been  of  the  same 
race  as  herself.  She  recognized  their  right  most  fully 
to  careful  and  polite  consideration  ;  she  had  striven  to 
cultivate  among  them  gentility  of  deportment ;  but  she 
had  longed  with  a  hungry  yearning  for  friendly  white 
faces,  and  the  warm  hands  and  hearts  of  friendly  asso 
ciates. 

Her  chief  recreation  in  this  impalpable  loneliness — this 
Chillon  of  the  heart  in  which  she  had  been  bound  so  long 
— was  in  daily  rides  upon  her  horse,  Midnight.  Even 
in  her  New  England  home  she  had  been  passionately 
fond  of  a  horse,  and  while  at  school  had  been  carefully 
trained  in  horsemanship,  being  a  prime  favorite  with  the 
old  French  riding-master  who  had  charge  of  that  branch 
of  education  in  the  seminary  of  her  native  town.  Mid 
night,  coming  to  her  from  the  dying  hand  of  her  only 
brother,  had  been  to  her  a  sacred  trust  and  a  pet  of 
priceless  value.  All  her  pride  and  care  had  centered 
upon  him,  and  never  had  horse  received  more  devoted 
attention.  As  a  result,  horse  and  rider  had  become  very 
deeply  attached  to  each  other.  Each  knew  and  appre 
ciated  the  other's  good  qualities  and  varying  moods. 
For  many  months  the  petted  animal  had  shown  none  of 
that  savageness  with  which  his  owner  had  before  been 
compelled  occasionally  to  struggle.  He  had  grown  sleek 


MOTES  IN    THE    SUNSHINE.  219 

and  round,  but  had  lost  his  viciousness,  so  far  as  she  was 
concerned,  and  obeyed  her  lightest  word  and  gesture 
with  a  readiness  that  had  made  him  a  subject  of  comment 
in  the  country  around,  where  the  "  Yankee  school-marm" 
and  her  black  horse  had  become  somewhat  noted. 

There  was  one  road  that  had  always  been  a  favorite 
with  the  horse  from  the  very  first.  Whenever  he 
struck  that  he  pressed  steadily  forward,  turning  neither 
to  the  right  or  left  until  he  came  to  a  rocky  ford  five 
miles  below,  which  his  rider  had  never  permitted  him  to 
cross,  but  from  which  he  was  always  turned  back  with 
difficulty — at  first  with  a  troublesome  display  of  temper, 
and  at  the  last,  with  evident  reluctance. 

It  was  in  one  of  her  most  lonely  moods,  soon  after  the 
incidents  we  have  just  narrated,  that  Mollie  Ainslie  set 
out  on  one  of  her  customary  rides.  In  addition  to  the 
depression  which  was  incident  to  her  own  situation,  she 
was  also  not  a  little  disturbed  by  the  untoward  occurrences 
affecting  those  for  whom  she  had  labored  so  long.  She 
had  never  speculated  much  in  regard  to  the  future  of  the 
freedrnen,  because  she  had  considered  it  as  assured. 
Growing  to  womanhood  in  the  glare  of  patriotic  warfare, 
she  had  the  utmost  faith  in  her  country's  honor  and 
power.  To  her  undiscriminating  mind  the  mere  fact 
that  this  honor  and  power  were  pledged  to  the  protection 
and  elevation  of  the  negro  had  been  an  all-sufficient  guar 
antee  of  the  accomplishment  of  that  pledge.  In  fact,  to 
her  mind,  it  had  taken  on  the  reality  and  certainty  of  a  fact 
already  accomplished.  She  had  looked  forward  to  their 
prosperity  as  an  event  not  to  be  doubted.  In  her  view 
Nimbus  and  Eliab  Hill  were  but  feeble  types  of  what  the 
race  would  "  in  a  few  brief  years"  accomplish  for  itself. 
She  believed  that  the  prejudice  that  prevailed  against 
the  autonomy  of  the  colored  people  would  be  suppressed, 


220  BRICKS  } VI 7 7/0  UT  S TRA  IV. 

or  prevented  from  harmful  action  by  the  national  power, 
until  the  development  of  the  blacks  should  have  shown 
them  to  be  of  such  value  in  the  community  that  the  old- 
time  antipathy  would  find  itself  without  food  to  exist 
upon  longer. 

She  had  looked  always  upon  the  rosy  side,  because  to 
her  the  country  for  which  her  brother  and  his  fellows  had 
fought  and  died  was  the  fairest  and  brightest  thing  upon 
earth.  There  might  be  spots  upon  the  sun's  face,  but 
none  were  possible  upon  her  country's  escutcheon.  So 
she  had  dreamed  and  had  fondly  pictured  herself  as 
doing  both  a  patriot's  and  a  Christian's  duty  in  the  work 
in  which  she  had  been  engaged.  She  felt  less  of  anger 
and  apprehension  with  regard  to  the  bitter  and  scornful 
whites  than  of  pity  and  contempt  for  them,  because  they 
could  not  appreciate  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the 
Nation  of  which  they  were  an  unwilling  part,  and  of  the 
future  that  lay  just  before.  She  regarded  all  there  had 
been  of  violence  and  hate  as  the  mere  puerile  spiteful- 
ness  of  a  subjugated  people.  She  had  never  analyzed 
their  condition  or  dreamed  that  they  would  ever  be 
recognized  as  a  power  which  might  prove  dangerous 
either  to  the  freedman's  rights  or  to  the  Nation  itself. 

The  recent  events  had  opened  her  eyes.  She  found 
that,  unknown  to  herself,  knowledge  had  forced  itself 
upon  her  mind.  As  by  a  flash  the  fact  stood  revealed  to 
her  consciousness  that  the  colored  man  stood  alone.  The 
Nation  had  withdrawn  its  arm.  The  flag  still  waved 
over  him,  but  it  was  only  as  a  symbol  of  sovereignty  re 
nounced — of  power  discarded.  Naked  privileges  had  been 
conferred,  but  the  right  to  enforce  their  recognition  had 
been  abandoned.  The  weakness  and  poverty  of  the 
recent  slave  was  pitted  alone  and  unaided  against  the 
wealth  and  power  and  knowledge  of  the  master.  It  was 


MOTES  JN    THE    SUNSHINE.  221 

a  revelation  of  her  own  thought  to  herself,  and  she  was 
stunned  and  crushed  by  it. 

She  was  no  statesman,  and  did  not  comprehend  any 
thing  of  those  grand  policies  whose  requirements  over 
balance  all  considerations  of  individual  right — in  com 
parison  with  which  races  and  nations  are  but  sands  upon 
the  shore  of  Time.  She  little  realized  how  grand  a 
necessity  lay  at  the  back  of  that  movement  which  seemed 
to  her  so  heartless  and  inexcusable.  She  knew,  of 
course,  vaguely  and  weakly,  that  the  Fathers  made  a 
Constitution  on  which  our  government  was  based.  She 
did  not  quite  understand  its  nature,  which  was  very 
strange,  since  she  had  often  heard  it  expounded,  and  as 
a  matter  of  duty  had  read  with  care  several  of  those 
books  which  tell  us  all  about  it. 

She  had  heard  it  called  by  various  names  in  her  far 
New  England  home  by  men  whom  she  loved  and  vene 
rated,  and  whose  wisdom  and  patriotism  she  could  not 
doubt.  They  had  called  it  "  a  matchless  inspiration" 
and  "  a  mass  of  compromises  ;"  "  the  charter  of  liberty" 
and  "  a  league  with  Hell ;"  "  the  tocsin  of  liberty"  and 
"  the  manacle  of  the  slave."  She  felt  quite  sure  that 
nobler-minded,  braver-hearted  men  than  those  who  used 
these  words  had  never  lived,  yet  she  could  not  under 
stand  the  thing  of  which  they  spoke  so  positively  and  so 
passionately.  She  did  not  question  the  wisdom  or  the 
patriotism  of  the  Fathers  who  had  propounded  this  enig 
ma.  She  thought  they  did  the  best  they  knew,  and  knew 
the  best  that  was  at  that  time  to  be  known. 

She  had  never  quite  believed  them  to  be  inspired,  and 
she  was  sure  they  had  no  models  to  work  after.  Greece 
and  Rome  were  not  republics  in  the  sense  of  our  day, 
and  in  their  expanded  growth  did  not  profess  to  be,  at  any 
time  ;  Switzerland  and  San  Marino  were  too  limited  in 


222  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

extent  to  afford  any  valuable  examples  ;  Venice  while 
professedly  a  republic  had  been  as  unique  and  inimitable 
as  her  own  island  home.  Then  there  were  a  few  experi 
ments  here  and  there,  tentative  movements  barren  of  re 
sults,  and  that  was  all  that  the  civilized  world  had  to 
offer  of  practical  knowledge  of  democracy  at  that  time. 
Beyond  this  were  the  speculations  of  philosophers  and 
the  dreams  of  poets.  Or  perhaps  the  terms  should  be 
reversed,  for  the  dreams  were  oft-times  more  real  and  con 
sistent  than  the  lucubrations.  From  these  she  did  not 
doubt  that  our  ancient  sages  took  all  the  wisdom  they 
could  gather  and  commingled  it  with  the  riper  knowledge 
of  their  own  harsh  experience. 

But  yet  she  could  not  worship  the  outcome.  She  knew 
that  Franklin  was  a  great  man  and  had  studied  electricity 
very  profoundly,  for  his  day  ;  but  there  are  ten  thousand 
unnoted  operators  to-day  who  know  more  of  its  properties, 
power  and  management  than  he  ever  dreamed  of.  She 
did  not  know  but  it  might  be  so  with  regard  to  free  gov 
ernment.  The  silly  creature  did  not  know  that  while  the 
world  moves  in  all  things  else,  it  stands  still  or  goes  back 
ward  in  governmental  affairs.  She  never  once  thought 
that  while  in  science  and  religion  humanity  is  making 
stupendous  strides,  in  government  as  in  art,  it  turns  ever 
to  the  model  of  the  antique  and  approves  the  wisdom 
only  of  the  ancient. 

So  it  was  that  she  understood  nothing  of  the  sacred- 
ness  of  right  which  attaches  to  that  impalpable  and  in 
destructible  thing,  a  State  of  the  American  Union — that 
immortal  product  of  mortal  wisdom,  that  creature  which 
is  greater  than  its  creator,  that  part  which  is  more  than 
the  whole,  that  servant  which  is  lord  and  master  also.  If 
she  had  been  given  to  metaphysical  researches,  she  would 
have  found  much  pleasure  in  tracing  the  queer  involu- 


IN    THE   PATH  OF   THE   STORM.  223 

tions  of  that  network  of  wisdom  that  our  forefathers  de 
vised,  which  their  sons  have  labored  to  explain,  and  of 
which  the  sword  had  already  cut  some  of  the  more 
difficult  knots.  Not  being  a  statesman  or  a  philosopher, 
she  could  only  wonder  and  grow  sad  in  contemplating  the 
future  that  she  saw  impending  over  those  for  whom  she 
had  labored  so  long. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

IN    THE    PATH    OF    THE    STORM. 

WHILE  Mollie  Ainslie  thought  of  these  things  with 
foreboding,  her  steed  had  turned  down  his  favorite  road, 
and  was  pressing  onward  with  that  persistency  which 
characterizes  an  intelligent  horse  having  a  definite  aim 
in  view.  The  clouds  were  gathering  behind  her,  but  she 
did  not  notice  them.  The  horse  pressed  on  and  on. 
Closer  and  closer  came  the  storm.  The  road  grew  dark 
amid  the  clustering  oaks  which  overhung  its  course.  The 
thunder  rolled  in  the  distance  and  puffs  of  wind  tossed 
the  heavy-leafed  branches  as  though  the  trees  begged  for 
mercy  from  the  relentless  blast.  A  blinding  flash,  a 
fierce,  sharp  peal,  near  at  hand,  awoke  her  from  her 
reverie.  The  horse  broke  into  a  quick  gallop,  and  glanc 
ing  back  she  saw  a  wall  of  black  cloud,  flame-lighted  and 
reverberant,  and  felt  the  cold  breath  of  the  summer  storm 
come  sweeping  down  upon  her  as  she  sped  away. 

She  saw  that  it  would  be  useless  to  turn  back.  Long 
before  she  could  reach  any  shelter  in  that  direction 
she  would  be  drenched.  She  knew  she  was  approach 
ing  the  river,  but  remembering  that  she  had  noticed 
some  fine-looking  houses  just  on  the  other  side,  she 


224  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

decided  that  she  would  let  the  horse  have  his  own 
way,  and  apply  at  one  of  these  for  shelter.  She  was 
sure  that  no  one  would  deny  her  that  in  the  face 
of  such  a  tornado  as  was  raging  behind  her.  The 
horse  flew  along  as  if  a  winged  thing.  The  spirit  of 
the  storm  seemed  to  have  entered  into  him,  or  else  the 
thunder's  voice  awakened  memories  of  the  field  of  battle, 
and  for  once  his  rider  found  herself  powerless  to  restrain 
his  speed  or  direct  his  course.  He  laid  back  his  ears, 
and  with  a  short,  sharp  neigh  dashed  onward  with  a  wild 
tremor  of  joy  at  the  mad  race  with  wind  and  storm. 
The  swaying  tree-tops  waved  them  on  with  wild  gesticu 
lations.  The  lightning  and  the  thunder  added  wings  to 
the  flying  steed. 

Just  before  reaching  the  river  bank  they  had  to 
pass  through  a  stretch  of  tall  pines,  whose  dark  heads 
were  swaying  to  and  fro  until  they  almost  met  above  the 
narrow  road,  making  it  so  dark  below  that  the  black 
horse  grew  dim  in  the  shadow,  while  the  gaunt  trunks 
creaked  and  groaned  and  the  leaves  hissed  and  sobbed 
as  the  wind  swept  through  them.  The  resinous  fragrance 
mingled  with  the  clayey  breath  of  the  pursuing  storm. 
The  ghost-like  trunks  stood  out  against  the  lightning 
flashes  like  bars  before  the  path  of  flame.  She  no 
longer  tried  to  control  her  horse.  Between  the  flashes, 
his  iron  feet  filled  the  rocky  road  with  sparks  of  fire. 
He  reached  the  ford  and  dashed  knee-deep  into  the 
dark,  swift  stream,  casting  a  cool  spray  around  him 
before  he  checked  his  speed.  Then  he  halted  for 
an  instant,  tossed  his  head  as  if  to  give  the  breeze  a 
chance  to  creep  beneath  his  flowing  mane,  cast  a  quick 
glance  back  at  his  rider,  and  throwing  out  his  muzzle 
uttered  a  long,  loud  neigh  that  seemed  like  a  joyful 
hail,  and  pressed  on  with  quick,  careful  steps,  picking 


IN   THE  PATH  OF    THE   STORM.  225 

his  way  along  the  ledge  of  out-cropping  granite  which 
constituted  the  ford,  as  if  traversing  a  well-remembered 
causeway. 

The  water  grew  deeper  and  darker  ;  the  rider  reached 
down  and  gathered  up  her  dark  habit  and  drew  her  feet 
up  close  beneath  her.  The  current  grew  swifter.  The 
water  climbed  the  horse's  polished  limbs.  It  touched 
his  flanks  and  foamed  and  dashed  about  his  rugged 
breast.  Still  he  picked  his  way  among  the  rocks  with 
eager  haste,  neighing  again  and  again,  the  joy-ringing 
neighs  of  the  home-coming  steed.  The  surging  water 
rose  about  his  massive  shoulders  and  the  rider  drew  her 
self  still  closer  up  on  the  saddle,  clinging  to  bow  and 
mane  and  giving  him  the  rein,  confident  in  his  prowess 
and  intelligence,  wondering  at  his  eagerness,  yet  anxious 
for  his  footing  in  the  dashing  current.  The  wind  lifted 
the  spray  and  dashed  it  about  her.  The  black  cloud 
above  was  fringed  with  forked  lightning  and  resonant 
with  swift-succeeding  peals  of  thunder.  The  big  drops 
began  to  fall  hissing  into  the  gurgling  waters.  Now  and 
then  they  splashed  on  her  hands  and  face  and  shot  through 
her  close-fitting  habit  like  icy  bolts.  The  brim  of  the  low 
felt  hat  she  wore  and  its  dark  plume  were  blown  abou1: 
her  face.  Casting  a  hurried  glance  backward,  she  saw 
the  grayish-white  storm-sheet  come  rushing  over  the  slop 
ing  expanse  of  surging  pines,  and  heard  its  dull  heavy 
roar  over  the  rattle  of  the  aerial  artillery  which  echoed 
and  re-echoed  above  her. 

And  now  the  wind  shifted,  first  to  one  point  and  then 
to  another.  Now  it  swept  down  the  narrow  valley 
through  which  the  stream  ran  ;  now  it  dashed  the  water 
in  her  face,  and  anon  it  seemed  about  to  toss  her  from 
her  seat  and  hurl  her  over  her  horse's  head.  She  knew 
that  the  fierce  storm  would  strike  her  before  she  could 


226  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

reach  any  place  of  shelter.  The  wild  excitement  of  a 
struggle  with  the  elements  flamed  up  in  her  face  and 
lighted  her  eyes  with  joy.  She  might  have  been  a 
viking's  daughter  as  her  fair  hair  blew  over  her  flushed 
face,  while  she  patted  her  good  steed  and  laughed 
aloud  for  very  glee  at  the  thought  of  conflict  with  the 
wild  masterful  storm  and  the  cool  gurgling  rapid  which 
her  horse  breasted  so  gallantly. 

There  was  a  touch  of  fun,  too,  in  the  laugh,  and  in  the 
arch  gleaming  of  her  eyes,  as  she  thought  of  the  odd  fig 
ure  which  she  made,  perched  thus  upon  the  saddle  in 
mid-river,  blown  and  tossed  by  the  wind,  and  fleeing  from 
the  storm.  Her  rides  were  the  interludes  of  her  isolated 
life,  and  this  storm  was  a  part  of  the  fun.  She  enjoyed 
it  as  the  vigorous  pleasure-seeker  always  enjoys  the  simu 
lation  of  danger. 

The  water  shoaled  rapidly  as  they  neared  the  farther 
shore.  The  black  horse  mounted  swiftly  to  the  bank, 
still  pressing  on  with  unabated  eagerness.  She  leaned 
over  and  caught  up  the  stirrup,  thrust  her  foot  into  it, 
regained  her  seat  and  seized  the  reins,  as  with  a  shake 
and  a  neigh  he  struck  into  a  long  easy  gallop. 

"  Go  !"  she  said,  as  she  shook  the  reins.  The  horse  flew 
swiftly  along  while  she  swayed  lightly  from  side  to  side 
as  he  rose  and  fell  with  great  sinewy  strides.  She  felt 
him  bound  and  quiver  beneath  her,  but  his  steps  were  as 
though  the  black,  corded  limbs  were  springs  of  steel. 
Her  pride  in  the  noble  animal  she  rode  overcame  her 
fear  of  the  storm,  which  followed  swifter  than  they  fled. 
She  looked  eagerly  for  a  by-path  leading  to  some  farm 
house,  but  the  swift-settling  darkness  of  the  summer 
night  hid  them  from  her  eager  glance,  if  any  there 
were.  Half  a  mile  from  the  ford,  and  the  storm  over 
took  them — a  wall  of  wind-driven  rain,  which  dashed 


IN1   THE  PATH  OF   THE   STORM.  22 7 

and  roared  about  them,  drenching  the  rider  to  the  skin 
in  an  instant.  In  a  moment  the  red-clay  road  became 
the  bed  of  a  murky  torrent.  The  horse's  hoofs,  which 
an  instant  before  echoed  on  the  hard-beaten  track, 
splashed  now  in  the  soft  mud  and  threw  the  turbid  drops 
over  her  dripping  habit  and  into  her  storm-washed  face. 
A  quarter  of  a  mile  more,  and  the  cold  streams  poured 
down  her  back  and  chilled  her  slight  frame  to  the  mar 
row.  Her  hands  were  numb  and  could  scarce  cling  to 
the  dripping  reins  Tears  came  into  her  eyes  despite 
herself.  Still  the  wild  cloud-burst  hurled  its  swift  torrents 
of  icy  rain  upon  them  She  could  scarcely  see  her  horse's 
head,  through  the  gray,  chilly  storm-sheet. 

"  Whoa  !  whoa,  Midnight  !"  she  cried,  in  tremulous 
tones  through  her  chattering  teeth  and  white,  trembling 
lips.  All  her  gay  exultant  courage  had  been  drenched 
and  chilled  out  of  her.  She  tried  to  check  his  stride 
with  a  loose  convulsive  clutch  at  the  reins  as  she  peered 
about  with  blinded  eyes  for  a  place  of  shelter.  The 
horse  shook  his  head  with  angry  impatience,  neighed 
again,  clasped  the  bit  in  his  strong  teeth,  stretched  his 
neck  still  further  and  covered  the  slippery  ground  with 
still  swifter  strides.  A  hundred  yards  more  and  he 
turned  into  a  narrow  lane  at  the  right,  between  two 
swaying  oaks,  so  quickly  as  almost  to  unseat  his  praticed 
rider,  and  with  neigh  after  neigh  dashed  down  to  a 
great,  rambling,  old  farm-house  just  visible  under  the 
trees  at  the  foot  of  the  lane,  two  hundred  yards  away. 
The  way  was  rough  and  the  descent  sharp,  but  the  horse 
did  not  slacken  his  speed.  She  knew  it  was  useless  to 
attempt  to  check  him,  and  only  clung  to  the  saddle  pale 
with  fear  as  he  neared  the  high  gate  which  closed  its 
course.  As  he  rose  with  a  grand  lift  to  take  the  leap 
she  closed  her  eyes  in  terror.  Easy  and  swift  as  a 


228  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

bird's  flight  was  the  leap  with  which  the  strong-limbed 
horse  cleared,  the  high  palings  and  lighted  on  the  soft 
springy  turf  within  ;  another  bound  or  two  and  she 
heard  a  sharp,  strong  voice  which  rang  above  the  storm 
with  a  tone  of  command  that  betrayed  no  doubt  of 
obedience  : 

"  Whoa,  Satan  !     Stand,  sir  !" 

The  fierce  horse  stopped  instantly.  Mollie  Ainslie  was 
thrown  heavily  forward,  clasped  by  a  strong  arm  and  borne 
upon  the  piazza.  When  she  opened  her  eyes  she  saw  the 
torrents  pouring  from  the  eaves,  the  rain  beating  itself  into 
spray  upon  the  ground  without,  the  black  horse  steam 
ing  and  quivering  at  the  steps  of  the  porch,  and  Hesden 
Le  Moyne  gazing  anxiously  down  into  her  face.  The 
water  dripped  from  her  garments  and  ran  across  the 
porch.  She  shook  as  if  in  an  ague-fit.  She  could  not 
answer  the  earnest  inquiries  that  fell  from  his  lips.  She 
felt  him  chafing  her  chill,  numbed  hands,  and  then  the 
world  was  dark,  and  she  knew  no  more  of  the  kindly 
care  which  was  bestowed  upon  her, 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

LIKE      AND       UNLIKE. 

WHEN  she  awoke  to  consciousness  she  was  lying  on  a 
bed  in  an  apartment  which  was  a  strange  compound  of 
sitting-  and  sleeping-room.  The  bed  stood  in  a  capa 
cious  alcove  which  seemed  to  have  been  built  on  as  an 
afterthought.  The  three  sides  were  windows,  in  the 
outer  of  which  were  tastefully  arranged  numerous  flower 
ing  plants,  some  of  which  had  clambered  up  to  the 


LIKE  AND   UNLIKE.  229 

ceiling  and  hung  in  graceful  festoons  above  the  bed. 
The  window-shades  were  so  arranged  as  to  be  worked 
by  cords,  which  hung  within  easy  reach  of  one  lying 
there.  The  night  had  not  fully  come,  but  a  lamp  was 
burning  at  the  side  of  the  bed  yet  beyond  its  head-board, 
so  that  its  rays  lit  up  the  windows  and  the  green  trailing 
vines,  but  did  not  fall  upon  the  bed.  In  an  invalid's 
chair  drawn  near  the  bedside,  a  lady  well  past  the  middle 
age  but  with  a  face  of  singular  sweetness  and  refinement 
was  watching  and  directing  the  efforts  which  were  being 
made  for  the  resuscitation  of  the  fainting  girl  by  two 
servant  women,  who  were  busily  engaged  in  chafing  her 
hands  and  making  warm  applications  to  her  chilled 
limbs. 

As  she  opened  her  eyes  they  took  in  all  these  things, 
but  she  could  not  at  once  remember  what  had  hap 
pened  or  where  she  was  This  sweet  vision  of  a 
home  interior  was  so  different  from  the  low,  heavy- 
beamed  rooms  and  little  diamond-paned  windows  of  the 
Ordinary,  even  after  all  her  attempts  to  make  it  cosy, 
that  she  seemed  to  have  awakened  in  fairy  land.  She 
wondered  dully  why  she  had  never  trained  ivies  and 
Madeira  vines  over  those  dark  beams,  and  blushed 
at  the  thought  that  so  simple  a  device  had  never 
occurred  to  her.  She  lay  motionless  until  she  had  re 
called  the  incidents  of  the  day.  She  had  recognized 
Mr.  Le  Moyne  at  once,  and  she  knew  by  instinct  that 
the  graceful  lady  who  sat  beside  her  was  she  who  had 
written  her  the  only  word  of  sympathy  or  appreciation 
she  had  ever  received  from  one  of  her  own  sex  in  the 
South.  She  was  anxious  for  a  better  view  and  turned 
toward  her. 

*'  Ah,  here  are  you,  my  dear  !"  said  a  soft,  low  voice, 
as  the  light  fell  upon  her  opened  eyes.  "  Move  me  up 


230  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

a  little,  Maggie,"  to  one  of  the  servants.  "  We  are  glad 
to  see  you  coming  around  again.  Don't  move,  dear," 
she  continued,  as  she  laid  her  thin  soft  hand  upon 
the  plump  one  of  the  reclining  girl.  '  You  are  among 
friends.  The  storm  and  the  ride  were  too  much  for  you, 
and  you  fainted  for  a  little  while.  That  is  all.  There 
is  no  trouble  now.  You  weren't  hurt,  were  you  ?"  she 
asked  anxiously. 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  wonderingly. 

"  We  are  glad  of  that,"  was  the  reply.  '  You  are  ex 
hausted,  of  course,  but  if  you  do  not  get  cold  you  will 
soon  be  all  right.  Maggie,"  she  continued,  to  the  ser 
vant,  "  tell  Mr.  Hesden  to  bring  in  that  hot  toddy  now. 
He  had  better  put  the  juice  of  a  lemon  it  it,  too.  Miss 
Ainslie  may  not  be  accustomed  to  taking  it.  I  am  Mrs. 
Le  Moyne,  I  forgot  to  say,"  she  added,  turning  to  her 
unintended  guest,  "  and  Hesden,  that  is  my  son,  tells  me 
that  you  are  Miss  Ainslie,  the  brave  young  teacher  at 
Red  Wing  whom  I  have  long  wished  to  see.  I  am  really 
glad  that  chance,  or  Hesden's  old  war  horse  Satan, 
brought  you  here,  or  I  am  afraid  I  should  never  have 
had  that  pleasure.  This  is  Hesden,"  she  continued, 
nodding  toward  him  as  he  entered  with  a  small  silver 
waiter  on  which  was  a  steaming  pitcher  and  a  delicate 
glass.  *'  He  has  been  my  nurse  so  long  that  he  thinks 
no  one  can  prepare  a  draught  for  a  sick  person  so  well 
as  he,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  quite  agree  with  his  no 
tion.  You  have  met  before,  I  believe.  Just  take  a 
good  dose  of  this  toddy  and  you  will  be  better 
directly.  You  got  a  terrible  drenching,  and  I  was  afraid 
you  would  have  a  congestive  chill  when  they  brought 
you  in  here  as  white  as  a  sheet  with  your  teeth  chatter 
ing  like  castanets." 

Hesden  Le  Moyne  filled  the  glass  with  the  steaming 


LIKE   AND  UNLIKE.  231 

decoction  and  held  the  salver  toward  her.  She  took  it 
and  tried  to  drink. 

"  Hand  me  the  waiter,  Hesden,"  said  his  mother,  re 
provingly,  "  and  raise  her  head.  Don't  you  see  that 
Miss  Ainslie  cannot  drink  lying  there.  I  never  saw  you 
so  stupid,  my  son.  I  shall  have  to  grow  worse  again 
soon  to  keep  you  from  getting  out  of  practice  entirely. 

Thus  reproached,  Hesden  Le  Moyne  put  his  arm 
hesitatingly  beneath  the  pillow,  raised  the  flushed  face 
upon  it  and  supported  the  young  lady  while  she  quaffed 
the  hot  drink.  Then  he  laid  her  easily  down,  smoothed 
the  pillow  with  a  soft  instinctive  movement,  poured  out 
a  glass  of  the  toddy  which  he  offered  to  his  mother,  and 
then,  handing  the  waiter  to  the  servant,  leaned  over  his 
mother  with  a  caressing  movement  and  said  : 

"  You  must  look  out,  little  mother.  Too  much  ex 
citement  will  not  do  for  you.  You  must  not  let  Miss 
Ainslie's  unexpected  call  disturb  you." 

' '  No  indeed,  Hesden, ' '  she  said,  as  she  looked  up  at 
him  gratefully,  "  I  feel  really  glad  of  any  accident  that 
could  bring  her  under  our  roof,  now  that  I  am  satisfied 
that  she  is  to  experience  no  harm  from  her  stormy  ride. 
She  will  be  all  right  presently,  and  we  will  have  supper 
served  here  as  usual.  You  may  tell  Laura  that  she  need 
be  in  no  haste." 

Having  thus  dismissed  her  son  she  turned  to  her  guest 
and  said  : 

1 '  I  have  been  an  invalid  so  long  that  our  household  is 
all  ordered  with  regard  to  that  fact.  I  am  seldom  able 
to  be  taken  out  to  dinner,  and  we  have  got  into  the 
habit  of  having  a  late  supper  here,  just  Hesden,  his  little 
boy,  and  I,  and  to-night  we  will  have  the  table  set  by 
the  bedside  and  you  will  join  us." 

The  sudden  faint  was  over  ;  the  toddy  had  sent  the 


232  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

blood  tingling  through  the  young  girl's  veins.  The  rftle 
of  the  invalid  was  an  unaccustomed  one  for  her  to  play, 
and  the  thought  of  supping  in  bed  was  peculiarly  dis 
tasteful  to  her  self-helping  Northern  training.  It  was 
not  long  before  she  began  to  manifest  impatience. 

"Are  you  in  pain,  dear?"  asked  the  good  lady, 
noticing  with  the  keen  eye  of  the  habitual  invalid  her 
restive  movements. 

"  No,  indeed,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  am  not  at  all  sick. 
It  was  only  a  little  faint.  Really,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  I 
would  rather  get  up  than  lie  here." 

"  Oh,  lie  still,"  said  the  elder  lady,  cheerfully.  "  The 
room  hardly  looks  natural  unless  the  bed  is  occupied. 
Besides,"  she  added  with  a  light  laugh,  "  you  will  afford 
me  an  excellent  opportunity  to  study  effects.  You  seem 
to  me  very  like  what  I  must  have  been  when  I  was  first 
compelled  to  abandon  active  life.  You  are  very  nearly 
the  same  size  and  of  much  the  same  complexion  and  cast 
of  features.  You  will  pardon  an  old  lady  for  saying  it, 
I  am  sure.  Lest  you  should  not,  I  shall  be  compelled  to 
add  that  I  was  considered  something  of  a  beauty  when  I 
was  young.  Now,  you  shall  give  me  an  idea  of  how  I 
have  looked  in  all  the  long  years  that  couch  has  been  my 
home.  1  assure  you  I  shall  watch  you  very  critically, 
for  it  has  been  my  pride  to  make  my  invalid  life  as  pleas 
ant  to  myself  and  as  little  disagreeable  to  others  as  I 
could.  Knowing  that  I  could  never  be  anything  else,  I 
devised  every  plan  I  could  to  make  myself  contented 
and  to  become  at  least  endurable  to  my  family." 

l<  Everyone  knows  how  well  you  have  succeeded,  Mrs. 
Le  Moyne,"  said  the  young  girl.  "  It  must  indeed  have 
been  a  sad  and  burdened  life,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  have  contrived  to  make  your  sick  room  a  perfect 
paradise." 


LIKE  AND   UNLIKE.  233 

:<  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  other,  sadly,  "it  is  beautiful. 
Those  who  loved  me  have  been  very  indulgent  and  very 
considerate,  too.  Not  only  every  idea  of  my  own  has 
been  carried  into  effect,  but  they  have  planned  for  me, 
too.  That  alcove  was  an  idea  of  my  husband's.  I  think 
that  the  sunlight  pouring  in  at  those  windows  has  done 
more  to  prolong  my  life  than  anything  else.  I  did  not 
think,  when  thirty  years  ago  I  took  to  my  bed,  that  I 
should  have  survived  him  so  long — so  long — almost  eight 
years.  He  was  considerably  older  than  I,  but  I  never 
looked  to  outlive  him,  never. 

' '  That  lamp-stand  and  little  book-rack, ' '  she  continued, 
with  the  garrulity  of  the  invalid  when  discoursing  of  his 
own  affairs,  "  were  Hesden's  notions,  as  were  many  other 
things  in  the  room.  The  flowers  I  had  brought  in,  one 
by  one,  to  satisfy  my  hunger  for  the  world  without.  In 
the  winter  I  have  many  more.  Hesden  makes  the  room 
a  perfect  conservatory,  then.  They  have  come  to  be 
very  dear  to  me,  as  you  may  well  suppose.  That  ivy 
now,  over  the  foot  of  the  bed,  I  have  watched  it  from  a 
little  slip  not  a  finger  high.  It  is  twenty-seven  years  old. ' ' 

So  she  would  have  run  on,  no  one  knows  to  what 
length,  had  not  the  servant  entered  to  set  the  table  for 
supper.  Under  her  mistress*  directions  she  was  about 
to  place  it  beside  the  bed,  when  the  young  girl  sprang  into 
a  sitting  posture  and  with  flaming  cheeks  cried  out  : 

"  Please,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  I  had  rather  not  lie  here.  I 
am  quite  well — just  as  well  as  ever,  and  I  wish  you 
would  let  me  get  up." 

"  But  how  can  you,  dear?"  was  the  reply.  "Your 
clothes  are  drying  in  the  kitchen.  They  were  com 
pletely  drenched.*' 

"  Sure  enough,"  answered  Miss  Ainslie.  **  I  had 
forgotten  that." 


234  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

She  laid  herself  down  resignedly  as  the  invalid  said  : 

"  If  Hesden's  presence  would  annoy  you,  he  shall  not 
come.  I  only  thought  it  might  bepleasanter  for  you  not 
to  be  confined  to  the  conversation  of  a  crippled  old 
woman.  Besides,  it  is  his  habit,  and  I  hardly  know  what 
he  would  do  if  he  had  to  eat  his  supper  elsewhere." 

"  Oh,  certainly,  I  would  not  wish  to  disturb  your  usual 
arrangement,"  answered  Mollie,  "  but — "  she  began,  and 
then  stoppd  with  some  signs  of  confusion. 

"  But  what,  my  dear  ?"  asked  the  elder  lady,  briskly. 
"  Do  you  mean  that  you  are  not  accustomed  as  I  am  to 
invalidism,  and  hardly  like  the  notion  of  supping  in  bed 
as  an  introduction  to  strangers  ?  Well,  I  dare  say  it 
would  be  annoying,  and  if  you  think  you  are  quite  well 
enough  to  sit  up,  I  reckon  something  better  may  be 
arranged." 

"  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne, "  said  the  other, 
"  that  I  am  quite  well,  but  pray  do  not  let  me  make  you 
any  trouble." 

"  Oh,  no  trouble  at  all,  dear  ;  only  you  will  have  to 
wear  one  of  my  gowns  now  many  years  old.  I 
thought  they  were  very  pretty  then,  I  assure  you.  I 
should  be  very  glad  to  see  them  worn  again.  There  are 
few  who  could  wear  them  at  all  ;  but  I  think  they  would 
both  fit  and  suit  you.  You  are  like  enough  to  me  to  be 
my  daughter.  Here,  you  Maggie  !" 

She  called  the  servant,  and  gave  some  directions  which 
resulted  in  her  bringing  in  several  dresses  of  an  ancient 
pattern  but  exquisite  texture,  and  laying  them  upon  the 
bed. 

"  You  will  have  to  appear  in  full  dress,  my  dear,  for  I 
have  no  other  gowns  that  would  be  at  all  becoming," 
said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne. 

"  How  very  beautiful !"  said  the  girl  sitting  up  in  the 


LIKE   AND   UNLIKE.  235 

bed,  gazing  at  the  dainty  silks  and  examining  their  quaint 
patterns.      "  But  really,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne " 

"  Now,  please  oblige  me  by  making  no  more  objec 
tions,"  interrupted  that  lady.  "  Indeed,"  she  added, 
shaking  her  linger  threateningly  at  her  guest,  "  I  will  not 
listen  to  any  more.  The  fit  has  seized  me  now  to  have 
you  sit  opposite  me  at  the  table.  It  will  be  like  facing 
my  own  youth  ;  for  now  that  I  look  at  you  more  closely, 
you  seem  wonderfully  like  me.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Maggie  ?" 

'  'Deed  I  do,"  said  the  servant,  "  an'  dat's  jes  what 
Laura  was  a  say  in'  ter  me  when  we  done  fotch  de  young 
lady  in  here  in  a  faint.  She  sez  ter  me,  sez  she,  '  Mas- 
gie,  ebber  you  see  anybody  look  so  much  like  de  Mistis 
made  young  again  ?'  ' 

"  Hush,  Maggie,"  said  her  mistress,  gaily  ;  "  don't  you 
see  how  the  young  lady  is  blushing,  while  it  is  the  poor, 
faded  woman  here  in  the  chair  who  ought  to  blush  at 
such  a  compliment  ?" 

And  indeed  the  bright  flushed  face  with  its  crown  of 
soft  golden  hair  escaped  from  its  customary  bondage, 
tossing  in  sunny  tendrils  about  the  delicate  brow  and 
rippling  in  waves  of  light  over  her  shoulders,  was  a  pic 
ture  which  any  woman  past  the  middle  life  might  well 
blush  and  sigh  to  recognize  as  the  counterpart  of  her 
youth.  The  two  women  looked  at  each  other  and  both 
laughed  at  the  admiration  each  saw  in  the  other's  glance. 

"Well,"  said  Mollie,  as  she  sank  smilingly  on  her 
pillow,  "  I  see  I  must  submit.  You  will  have  your  own 
way." 

She  raised  her  arm  above  her  head  and  toyed  with  a 
leaf  of  the  ivy  which  hung  in  graceful  festoons  about  the 
head-board.  As  she  did  so  the  loose-sleeved  wrapper 
which  had  been  flung  about  her  when  her  own  drenched 


23^  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

clothing  was  removed,  fell  down  almost  to  her  shoulder 
and  revealed  to  the  beauty-worshipping  watcher  by  the 
bedside  an  arm  of  faultless  outline,  slender,  pink-tinged, 
plump  and  soft.  When  she  had  toyed  lazily  for  a  mo 
ment  with  the  ivy,  she  dropped  her  arm  listlessly  down 
upon  the  bed.  It  fell  upon  one  of  the  dresses  which  lay 
beside  her. 

"  Ah,  thank  you  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Le  Moyne. 
'  You  have  relieved  me  greatly.  I  was  trying  to  decide 
which  one  I  wanted  you  to  wear,  when  your  arm  dropped 
across  that  pale,  straw-colored  silk,  with  the  vine  border 
around  the  corsage  and  the  clambering  roses  running 
down  the  front.  That  is  the  one  you  must  wear.  I 
never  wore  it  but  once,  and  the  occasion  is  one  I  shall 
always  like  to  recall." 

There  was  a  gleeful  time  in  the  invalid's  room  while 
the  fair  girl  was  being  habited  in  the  garments  of  a  by 
gone  generation,  and  when  Hesden  Le  Moyne  and  his 
boy  Hildreth  were  admitted  to  the  hearty  evening  meal, 
two  women  who  seemed  like  counterparts  sat  opposite 
each  other  at  the  sparkling  board — the  one  habited  in 
black  silk  with  short  waist,  a  low,  square  bodice  with  a 
mass  of  tender  lawn  showing  about  the  fair  slender  neck, 
puffed  at  the  shoulders  with  straight,  close  sleeves  reach 
ing  to  the  wrists,  around  which  peeped  some  rows  of  soft 
white  lace  ;  the  white  hair  combed  in  puffs  beside  the 
brow, clustering  above  its  pinky  softness  and  falling  in  a 
silvery  cataract  upon  the  neck.  The  style  of  the  other's 
dress  was  the  same,  save  that  the  shoulders  were  uncov 
ered,  and  except  for  the  narrow  puff  which  seemed  but  a 
continuation  on  either  side,  of  the  daintily-edged  bod 
ice,  the  arm  hung  pink  and  fair  over  the  amber  satin, 
uncovered  and  unadorned  save  at  the  wrist,  where  a  nar 
row  circlet  of  gold  clung  light  and  close  about  it.  Her 


LIKE  AND  UNLIKE.  237 

hair  was  dressed  in  the  same  manner  as  the  elder  lady's, 
and  differed  only  in  its  golden  sheen.  The  customary 
lamp  had  been  banished,  and  colored  wax-candles, 
brought  from  some  forgotten  receptacle,  burned  in  the 
quaint  old  candelabra  with  which  the  mantels  of  the 
house  had  long  been  decorated. 

The  one-armed  veteran  of  thirty  gazed  in  wonder  at 
this  unaccustomed  brightness.  If  he  needed  to  gaze 
long  and  earnestly  at  the  fair  creature  who  sat  over 
against  his  mother,  to  determine  the  resemblances  which 
had  been  noted  between  the  permanent  and  the  tempo 
rary  invalid,  who  shall  blame  him  for  so  doing  ? 

Little  Hildreth  in  his  six-year-old  wonderment  was 
less  judicial,  or  at  least  required  less  time  and  inquiry  to 
decide,  for  he  cried  out  even  before  an  introduction 
could  be  given, 

"  Oh,  papa,  see,  I've  got  a  new,  young  grandma." 

It  was  a  gay  party  at  that  country  supper-table,  and 
four  happier  people  could  hardly  have  gone  afterward 
into  the  parlor  where  the  invalid  allowed  herself  to  be 
wheeled  by  her  son  in  special  honor  of  their  unintended 
guest. 

Miss  Ainslie  was  soon  seated  at  the  piano  which  Hesden 
had  kept  in  tune  more  for  the  pleasure  of  occasional 
guests  than  his  own.  It  was  three  years  since  she  had 
touched  one,  but  the  little  organ,  which  some  Northern 
benefactor  had  given  to  the  church  and  school  at  Red 
Wing,  had  served  to  prevent  her  fingers  from  losing  all 
their  skill,  and  in  a  few  minutes  their  wonted  cunning 
returned.  She  had  been  carefully  trained  and  had 
by  nature  rare  musical  gifts.  The  circumstances  of 
the  day  had  given  a  wonderful  exhilaration  to  her  mind 
and  thought.  She  seemed  to  have  taken  a  leaf  out  of 
Paradise  and  bound  it  among  the  dingy  pages  of  her  dull 


238  XX/CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  monotonous  life.  Every  thing  about  her  was  so 
quaint  and  rare,  the  clothes  she  wore  so  rich  and  fantas 
tic,  that  she  could  not  control  her  fancy.  Every  musi 
cal  fantasy  that  had  ever  crept  into  her  brain  seemed  to 
be  trooping  along  its  galleries  in  a  mad  gallop  as  her  fair 
fingers  flew  over  the  time-stained  keys.  The  little  boy 
stood  clinging  to  her  skirt  in  silent  wonder,  his  fair,  sen 
sitive  face  working,  and  his  eyes  distended,  with  delighted 
amazement. 

The  evening  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  when  the 
servant  went  with  her  in  her  quaint  attire,  lighting  her 
up  the  winding  stairway  from  the  broad  hall  to  the  great 
airy  room  above,  with  its  yawning  fireplace  cheery  with 
the  dying  embers  of  a  fire  built  hours  ago  to  drive  out 
the  dampness,  and  its  two  high-posted  beds  standing  there 
in  lofty  dignity,  the  little  Yankee  school  marm  could  hardly 
realize  what  madcap  freaks  she  had  perpetrated  since  she 
bounded  over  the  gate  at  the  foot  of  the  lane  leading 
from  the  highway  down  to  Mulberry  Hill,  the  ancestral 
home  of  the  Richards  family. 

As  she  sat  smiling  and  blushing  over  the  memory  of 
what  she  had  done  and  said  in  those  delicious  hours,  a 
servant  tapped  at  the  door  and  announced  that  Master 
Hildreth,  whom  she  bore  in  her  arms  and  whose  chubby 
fists  were  stuck  into  his  eyes,  was  crying  most  disconso 
lately  lest  he  should  lose  his  "  new  grandma"  while  he 
slept.  She  had  brought  him,  therefore,  to  inquire  whether 
he  might  occupy  one  of  the  beds  in  the  young  lady's 
room.  Mollie  had  not  seen  for  so  many  years  a  child 
that  she  could  fondle  and  caress,  that  it  was  with  un 
bounded  delight  that  she  took  the  little  fellow  from  his 
nurse's  arms,  laid  him  on  the  bed  and  coaxed  his  eyes  to 
slumber. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

AN     UNBIDDEN     GUEST. 

WHEN  the  morning  dawned  the  boy  awoke  with  hot 
cheeks  and  bloodshot  eyes,  moaning  and  restless,  and 
would  only  be  quiet  when  pillowed  in  the  arms  of  his 
new-found  friend.  A  physician  who  was  called  pro 
nounced  his  ailment  to  be  scarlet-fever.  He  soon  be 
came  delirious,  and  his  fretful  moans  for  his  "  new 
grandma"  were  so  piteous  that  Miss  Ainslie  could  not 
make  up  her  mind  to  leave  him.  She  stayed  by  his  bed 
side  all  day,  saying  nothing  of  returning  to  Red  Wing, 
until  late  in  the  afternoon  a  messenger  came  from  there 
to  inquire  after  her,  having  traced  her  by  inquiry  among 
several  who  had  seen  her  during  the  storm,  as  well  as  by 
the  report  that  had  gone  out  from  the  servants  of  her 
presence  at  Mulberry  Hill. 

When  Hesden  Le  Moyne  came  to  inform  her  of  the 
messenger's  arrival,  he  found  her  sitting  by  his  son's 
bedside,  fanning  his  fevered  brow,  as  she  had  done  the 
entire  day.  He  gazed  at  them  both  in  silence  a  moment 
before  making  known  his  errand.  Then  he  took  the 
fan  from  her  hand  and  informed  her  of  the  messenger's 
arrival.  His  voice  sounded  strangely,  and  as  she 
looked  up  at  him  she  saw  his  face  working  with  emotion. 
She  cast  down  her  eyes  quickly.  She  could  not  tell  why. 
All  at  once  she  felt  that  this  quiet,  maimed  veteran  of  a 
lost  cause  was  not  to  her  as  other  men.  Perhaps  her 
heart  was  made  soft  by  the  strange  occurrences  of  the 
few  hours  she  had  passed  beneath  his  mother's  roof. 
However  that  may  be,  she  was  suddenly  conscious  of  a 
feeling  she  had  never  known  before.  Her  cheeks  burned 

239 


24°  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

as  she  listened  to  his  low,  quiet  tones.  The  tears  seemed 
determined  to  force  themselves  beneath  her  downcast 
lids,  but  her  heart  bounded  with  a  strange  undefined 
joy. 

She  rose  to  go  and  see  the  messenger.  The  sick  boy 
moaned  and  murmured  her  name.  She  stole  a  glance 
at  the  father,  and  saw  his  eyes  filled  with  a  look  of 
mingled  tenderness  and  pain.  She  walked  to  the  door. 
As  she  opened  it  the  restless  sufferer  called  for  her 
again.  She  went  out  and  closed  it  quickly  after  her.  At 
the  head  of  the  stairs  she  paused,  and  pressed  her  hand 
to  her  heart  while  she  breathed  quick  and  her  face 
burned.  She  raised  her  other  hand  and  pushed  back  a 
stray  lock  or  two  as  if  to  cool  her  forehead.  She  stood 
a  moment  irresolute  ;  glanced  back  at  the  door  of  the 
room  she  had  left,  with  a  half  frightened  look  ;  placed 
a  foot  on  the  first  stair,  and  paused  again.  Then  she 
turned  suddenly  back  with  a  scared  resolute  look  in  her 
gray  eyes,  opened  the  door  and  glided  swiftly  to  the  bed 
side.  Hesden  Le  Moyne's  face  was  buried  in  the  pillow. 
She  stood  over  him  a  moment,  her  bosom  heaving  with 
short,  quick  sighs.  She  reached  out  her  hand  as  if  she 
would  touch  him,  but  drew  it  quickly  back.  Then  she 
spoke,  quietly  but  with  great  effort,  looking  only  at  the 
little  sufferer. 

"  Mr.  Le  Moyne  ?"  He  raised  his  head  quickly  and 
a  flush  of  joy  swept  over  his  face.  She  did  not  see  it,  at 
least  she  was  not  looking  at  him,  but  she  knew  it. 
44  Would  you  like  me  to — to  stay — until— until  this  is 
over  ?' ' 

He  started,  and  the  look  of  joy  deepened  in  his  face. 
He  raised  his  hand  but  let  it  fall  again  upon  the  pillow, 
as  he  answered  humbly  and  tenderly, 

"  If  you  please,  Miss  Ainslie." 


AN  UNBIDDEN   GUEST.  241 

She  put  her  hand  upon  the  bed,  in  order  to  seem  more 
at  ease,  as  she  replied,  with  a  face  which  she  knew  was  all 
aflame, 

"  Very  well.     I  will  remain  for — the  present." 

He  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her  hand.  She  drew  it 
quickly  away  and  added  in  a  tone  of  explanation  : 

"  It  would  hardly  be  right  to  go  back  among  so  many 
children  after  such  exposure."  So  quick  is  love  to  find 
excuse.  She  called  it  duty,  nor  ever  thought  of  giving  it 
a  tenderer  name. 

He  made  no  answer.  So  easy  is  it  for  the  fond  heart 
to  be  jealous  of  a  new-found  treasure. 

She  waited  a  moment,  and  then  went  out  and  wrote  a 
note  to  Eliab  Hill.  Then  she  went  into  the  room  of  the 
invalid  mother.  How  sweet  she  looked,  reclining  on  the 
bed  in  the  pretty  alcove,  doing  penance  for  her  un 
wonted  pleasure  of  the  night  before  !  The  excited  girl 
longed  to  throw  her  arms  about  her  neck  and  weep. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  never  seen  any  one  so 
lovely  and  loveable.  She  went  to  the  bedside  and  took 
the  slender  hand  extended  toward  her. 

"  So,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  "  I  hear  they  have  sent 
for  you  to  go  back  to  Red  Wing.  I  am  sorry,  for  you 
have  given  us  great  pleasure  ;  but  I  am  afraid  you  will 
have  only  sad  memories  of  Mulberry  Hill.  It  is  too  bad  ! 
Poor  Hildreth  had  taken  such  a  liking  to  you,  too.  I  am 
sure  I  don't  blame  him,  for  I  am  as  much  in  love  with 
you  as  an  invalid  can  be  with  any  one  but  herself.  Hes- 
den  will  have  a  hard  time  alone  in  this  great  house  with 
two  sick  people  on  his  hands." 

"  I  shall  not  go  back  to  Red  Wing  to-day." 

"Indeed?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  right  to  endanger  so 
many  by  exposure  to  the  disease." 


342  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Oh,"  carelessly  ;  "  but  I  am  afraid  you  may  take  it 
yourself." 

"  I  hope  not.  I  am  very  well  and  strong.  Besides, 
Hildreth  calls  for  me  as  soon  as  I  leave  him  for  a  mo 
ment." 

"  Poor  little  fellow  !  It  is  pitiable  to  know  that  I  can 
do  nothing  for  him." 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne." 

But  you  must  not  expose  yourself  in  caring  for  a 
strange  child,  my  dear.  It  will  not  do  to  be  too  un 
selfish." 

"  I  cannot  leave  him,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne." 

She  left  the  room  quickly  and  returned  to  her  place  at 
the  sufferer's  bedside.  Hesden  Le  Moyne  rose  as  she  ap 
proached.  She  took  the  fan  from  his  hand  and  sat  down 
in  the  chair  he  had  occupied.  lie  stood  silent  a  moment, 
looking  down  upon  her  as  she  fanned  the  uneasy  sleeper, 
and  then  quietly  left  the  room. 

"  What  a  dear,  tender-hearted  thing  she  is  !"  said 
Mrs.  Le  Moyne  to  herself  after  she  had  gone.  "  So  lady 
like  and  refined  too.  How  can  such  a  girl  think  of  asso 
ciating  with  niggers  and  teaching  a  nigger  school  ?  Such 
a  pity  she  is  not  one  of  our  people.  She  would  be  just 
adorable  then.  Don't  you  think  so,  Hesden  ?"  she  said 
aloud  as  her  son  entered.  Having  been  informed  of  the 
subject  of  her  cogitations,  Mr.  Hesden  Le  Moyne  replied, 
somewhat  absently  and  irrelevantly,  as  she  thought,  yet 
very  warmly, 

"  Miss  Ainslie  is  a  very  remarkable  woman." 

He  passed  into  the  hall,  and  his  mother,  looking  after 
him,  said, 

"  Poor  fellow  !  he  has  a  heap  of  trouble."  And  then 
it  struck  her  that  her  son's  language  was  not  only  pecu 
liar  but  amusing.  *'  A  remarkable  woman  !"  She 


A    LIFE   2' OR   A    LIFE.  243 

laughed  to  herself  as  she  thought  of  it.  A  little,  brown- 
haired,  bright-eyed,  fair-skinned  chit,  pretty  and  plucky, 
and  accomplished  no  doubt,  but  not  at  all  "  remark 
able."  She  had  no  style  nor  pride.  Yankee  women  never 
had.  And  no  family  of  course,  or  she  would  not  teach 
a  colored  school.  "  Remarkable  !"  It  was  about  the 
only  thing  Miss  Ainslie  was  not  and  could  not  be.  It 
was  very  kind  of  her  to  stay  and  nurse  Hildreth,  though 
she  only  did  that  out  of  consideration  for  the  colored 
brats  under  her  charge  at  Red  Wing.  Nevertheless  she 
was  glad  and  gratified  that  she  did  so.  She  was  a  very 
capable  girl,  no  doubt  of  that,  and  she  would  feel  much 
safer  about  Hildreth  because  of  her  care.  It  was  just  in 
her  line.  She  was  like  all  Yankee  women — just  a  better 
class  of  housemaids.  This  one  was  very  accomplished. 
She  had  played  the  piano  exquisitely  and  had  acted  the 
lady  to  perfection  in  last  night's  masquerade.  But  Hes- 
den  must  be  crazy  to  call  her  remarkable.  She  chuckled 
lightly  as  she  determined  to  rally  him  upon  it,  when  she 
saw  him  next.  When  that  time  came,  the  good  lady 
had  quite  forgotten  her  resolve. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

A     LIFE     FOR     A     LIFE, 

IT  was  a  time  of  struggle  at  Mulberry  Hill.  Love  and 
death  fought  for  the  life  of  little  Hildreth  Le  Moyne. 
The  father  and  the  "  new  grandma"  watched  over  him 
most  assiduously  ;  the  servants  were  untiring  in  their 
exertions  ;  the  physician's  skill  was  not  lacking,  but  yet 
none  could  foresee  the  result.  The  invalid  below  sent 


244  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

frequent  inquiries.  First  one  and  then  the  other  stole 
away  to  ask  her  some  question  or  bring  her  tidings  in 
regard  to  the  lad  in  whose  life  was  bound  up  the  hope  of 
two  old  families. 

One  morning,  while  the  child  was  still  "very  sick,  when 
Miss  Ainslie  awoke  after  the  brief  sleep  which  had  been 
all  the  rest  she  had  allowed  herself  from  her  self-imposed 
task,  her  head  seemed  strangely  light.  There  was  a 
roaring  in  her  ears  as  if  a  cataract  were  playing  about 
them.  Her  limbs  ached,  and  every  movement  seemed 
unusually  difficult — almost  painful.  She  walked  across 
the  room  and  looked  dully  into  the  mirror  on  her  dress 
ing-case,  resting  her  hands  on  the  top  of  the  high  old- 
fashioned  furniture  as  she  did  so.  She  was  only  able  to 
note  that  her  eyes  looked  heavy  and  her  face  flushed  and 
swollen,  when  a  sharp  pain  shot  through  her  frame,  her 
sight  grew  dim,  the  room  spun  round  and  round.  She 
could  only  crawl  back  and  clamber  with  difficulty  upon 
the  high-posted  bed,  where  the  servant  found  her  fe 
vered  and  unconscious  when  she  came  an  hour  later  to 
awaken  her  for  breakfast.  The  struggle  that  had  been 
waged  around  the  bed  of  the  young  child  was  now  re 
newed  by  that  of  his  self -constituted  nurse.  Weeks  passed 
away  before  it  was  over,  and  ere  that  time  the  music  of 
little  feet  had  ceased  about  the  ancient  mansion,  and  the 
stroke  to  pride  and  love  had  rendered  the  invalid  grand 
mother  still  more  an  invalid. 

The  child  had  been  her  hope  and  pride  as  its  mother 
had  been  her  favorite.  By  a  strange  contrariety  the 
sunny-faced  little  mother  had  set  herself  to  accomplish 
her  son's  union  with  the  tall,  dark,  and  haughty  cousin, 
who  had  expired  in  giving  birth  to  little*  Hildreth.  There 
was  nothing  of  spontaneity  and  no  display  of  conjugal 
affection  on  the  part  of  the  young  husband  or  his  wife  ; 


A   LIFE  FOR  A   LIFE.  245 

but  during  the  absence  of  her  son,  the  invalid  was  well 
cared  for  and  entertained  by  the  wife,  whom  she  came 
to  love  with  an  intensity  second  only  to  that  she  lavished 
on  her  son.  In  the  offspring  of  these  two  her  heart  had 
been  wrapped  up  from  the  hour  of  his  birth.  She  had 
dreamed  out  for  him  a  life  full  of  great  actualities,  and 
had  even  reproached  Hesden  for  his  apathy  in  regard 
to  public  affairs  during  the  stirring  scenes  enacting 
around  them,  urging  him  to  take  part  in  them  for  his 
son's  sake. 

She  was  a  woman  of  great  ambition.  At  first  this  had 
centered  in  her  son,  and  she  had  even  rejoiced  when  he 
went  into  the  army,  though  he  was  earnestly  opposed 
to  the  war,  in  the  hope  that  it  might  bring  him  rank 
and  fame.  When  these  did  not  come,  and  he  re 
turned  to  her  a  simple  private,  with  a  bitterer  hate  for 
war  and  a  sturdier  dislike  for  the  causes  which  had  cul 
minated  in  the  struggle  than  he  had  when  it  began,  she 
had  despaired  of  her  dream  ever  being  realized  through 
him,  but  had  fondly  believed  that  the  son  of  the  daughter- 
in-law  she  had  so  admired  and  loved  would  unite  his 
father's  sterling  qualities  with  his  mother's  pride  and  love 
of  praise,  and  so  fulfill  her  desire  that  the  family  name 
should  be  made  famous  by  some  one  descended  from 
herself.  This  hope  was  destroyed  by  the  death  of  the 
fair,  bright  child  whom  she  loved  so  intensely,  and  she 
felt  a  double  grief  in  consequence.  In  her  sorrow, 
she  had  entirely  secluded  herself,  seeing  no  one  but  her 
nurse  and,  once  or  twice,  her  son.  The  sick  girl  in  the 
room  above  was  somehow  unpleasantly  connected  with 
her  grief,  and  received  no  real  sympathy  in  her  illness. 
There  was  even  something  of  jealousy  in  the  mind  of  the 
confirmed  invalid,  when  she  remembered  the  remarkable 
manner  in  which  the  child  had  been  attracted  toward  the 


246  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

new-comer,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  she  had  nursed  him 
so  faithfully  that  his  last  words  were  a  moan  for  his 
"  new  grandma,"  while  his  real  grandmother  lay  use 
less  and  forgotten  in  her  dim-shadowed  room  below. 

Besides,  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  envy  that  she  recog 
nized  the  fact  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  her  son 
was  more  absorbed  in  another's  welfare  than  in  her  own. 
The  chronic  ailment  of  the  mother  had  no  doubt  become 
so  much  a  thing  of  habit  in  his  life  that  it  failed  to  im 
press  him  as  it  should,  while  the  illness  of  the  young  girl, 
having,  as  he  believed,  been  incurred  by  her  voluntary 
attendance  upon  his  son  inspired  him  with  a  feeling  of 
responsibility  that  would  not  otherwise  have  existed. 
Something  had  occurred,  too,  which  had  aroused  a  feel 
ing  upon  his  part  which  is  often  very  close  akin  to  a  ten 
derer  one.  As  soon  as  he  had  learned  of  her  illness,  he 
had  endeavored  to  induce  some  of  his  female  relatives 
to  come  and  attend  her,  but  they  had  all  flatly  refused. 
They  would  come  and  care  for  the  child,  they  said  ;  they 
would  even  send  the  "  Yankee  school-marm"  flowers, 
and  make  delicacies  to  tempt  her  appetite,  but  they  would 
not  demean  themselves  by  waiting  upon  a  sick  "  nigger 
teacher."  They  did  not  fear  the  contagion  ;  indeed  they 
would  have  come  to  take  care  of  little  Hildreth  but  that 
they  did  not  care  to  meet  his  Yankee  nurse.  They  even 
blamed  Hesden  for  allowing  her  to  come  beneath  his  roof, 
and  intimated  that  she  had  brought  contagion  with  her. 

He  was  angry  at  their  injustice  and  prejudice.  He 
had  known  of  its  existence,  but  it  never  before  seemed 
so  hateful.  Somehow  he  could  not  rid  himself  of 
two  thoughts  :  one  was  of  the  fairy  creature  whose  song 
and  laughter  and  bird-like  grace  and  gaiety,  as  she  mas 
queraded  in  the  quaint  dress  of  olden  time,  had  made 
the  dull  old  mansion  bright  as  a  dream  of  Paradise  for  a 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LIFE.  247 

single  night.  It  had  seemed  to  him,  then,  that  nothing  so 
bright  and  pure  had  ever  flitted  through  the  somber  apart 
ments  of  the  gray  old  mansion.  He  remembered  the 
delight  of  his  boy — that  boy  whom  he  loved  more  than 
he  had  ever  loved  any  one,  unless  it  were  his  invalid 
mother — and  he  could  not  forget  the  same  slight  form, 
with  serious  shadowed  face  and  earnest  eyes  moving  softly 
about  the  sick-room  of  the  child,  her  eyes  full  of  sorrowful 
anxiety  as  if  the  life  she  sought  to  save  were  part  of  her 
own  being.  He  wondered  that  any  one  could  think  of 
her  as  a  stranger.  It  was  true  she  had  come  from  the 
North  and  was  engaged  in  a  despised  avocation,  but 
even  that  she  had  glorified  and  exalted  by  her  purity  and 
courage  until  his  fastidious  lady  mother  herself  had  been 
compelled  to  utter  words  of  praise.  So  his  heart  grew 
sore  and  his  face  flushed  hot  with  wrath  when  his  cousins 
sneered  at  this  lily  which  had  been  blighted  by  the 
fevered  breath  of  his  son. 

They  tauntingly  advised  him  to  send  to  Red  Wing  and 
get  some  of  her  "nigger"  pupils  to  attend  upon  her. 
Much  to  their  surprise  he  did  so,  and  two  quiet,  gentle, 
deft-handed  watchers  came,  who  by  day  and  by  night  sat 
by  her  bedside,  gladly  endeavoring  to  repay  the  debt  they 
owed  to  the  faithful  teacher.  But  this  did  not  seem  tc 
relieve  Mr.  Le  Moyne  of  anxiety.  He  came  often  and 
watched  the  flushed  face,  heard  the  labored  breathing, 
and  listened  with  pained  heart  to  the  unmeaning  mur 
murs  which  fell  from  her  lips — the  echoes  of  that  desert 
dreamland  through  which  fever  drags  its  unconscious 
victims.  He  heard  his  own  name  and  that  of  the  fast- 
failing  sufferer  in  the  adjoining  room  linked  in  sor 
rowful  phrase  by  the  stammering  tongue.  Even  in  the 
midst  of  his  sorrow  it  brought  him  a  thrill  of  joy.  And 
when  his  fear  became  fact,  and  he  mourned  the  youngf 


24s  BXICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

life  no  love  could  save,  his  visits  to  the  sick-room  of  her 
who  had  been  his  co-watcher  by  his  child's  bedside  be 
came  more  frequent.  He  would  not  be  denied  the  privi 
lege  until  the  crisis  came,  and  reason  resumed  her  sway. 
Then  he  came  no  more,  but  every  day  sent  some  token 
of  remembrance. 

Mrs.  Le  Moyne  had  noted  this  solicitude,  and  with  the 
jealousy  of  the  confirmed  invalid  grudged  the  sick  girl 
the  slightest  of  the  thoughtful  attentions  that  she  alone 
had  been  accustomed  to  receive.  She  did  not  dream  that 
her  son,  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  cared  anything  for  the  little 
Yankee  chit  except  upon  broadly  humanitarian  grounds, 
or  perhaps  from  gratitude  for  her  kindly  attention  to  his 
son  ;  but  even  this  fretted  her.  As  time  went  on,  she 
came  more  and  more  to  dislike  her  and  to  wish  that 
she  had  never  come  beneath  their  roof.  So  the  days 
flew  by,  grew  into  weeks,  and  Mollie  Ainslie  was  still  at 
Mulberry  Hill,  while  important  events  were  happening  at 
Red  Wing. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

A    VOICE    FROM    THE    DARKNESS. 

IT  was  two  weeks  after  Miss  Ainslie's  involuntary  flight 
from  Red  Wing  that  Nimbus,  when  he  arose  one  morn 
ing,  found  a  large  pine  board  hung  across  his  gateway.  It 
was  perhaps  six  feet  long  and  some  eighteen  or  twenty 
inches  wide  in  the  widest  part, smoothly  planed  upon  one 
side  and  shaped  like  a  coffin  lid.  A  hole  had  been  bored 
in  either  end,  near  the  upper  corner,  and  through  each  of 
these  a  stout  cord  had  been  passed  and  tied  into  a  loop, 
which,  being  slipped  over  a  paling,  one  on  each  side  the 


A    VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS.  249 

gate,  left  the  board  swinging  before  it  so  as  effectually  to 
bar  its  opening  unless  the  board  were  first  removed. 

The  attention  of  Nimbus  was  first  directed  to  it  by  a 
neighbor-woman  who,  stopping  in  front  of  the  gate, 
called  out  to  him  in  great  excitement,  as  he  sat  with 
Berry  Lawson  on  his  porch  waiting  for  his  breakfast  : 

"  Oh,  Bre'er  Nimbus,  what  in  de  libbin'  yairth  is  dis 
h'yer  on  your  gate  ?  La  sakes,  but  de  Kluckers  is  atter 
you  now,  shore  'nough  !" 

"  Why,  what's  de  matterwidyer,  Cynthy  ?"  said  Nim 
bus, cheerfully.  "  Yer  hain't  seen  no  ghosteses  nor  numn', 
hez  ye?" 

"Ghosteses,  did  yer  say?"  answered  the  excited 
woman.  '  Jes  yer  come  an'  look,  an'  ef  yer  don't  say 
hit  wuss  ner  ghosteses,  yer  may  count  Cynthy  a  fool. 
Dat's  all." 

Berry  started  down  to  the  gate,  Nimbus  following  him, 
carelessly. 

"  Why,  hello,  Bre'er  Nimbus  !  Yer  shore  hez  got  a 
signboard  cross  de  passway.  Jes  look  a'  dat  now  !  What 
yer  'spect  it  mout  be,  cousin?"  said  Berry,  stopping 
short  and  pointing  to  the  board  hung  on  the  fence. 

'  'Clar,I  dunno,"  said  Nimbus,  as  he  strode  forward 
and  leaned  over  the  fence  to  get  a  sight  of  the  other  side 
of  the  board.  '  'Spec'  it  must  be  some  of  dem  Ku 
Kluck's  work,  ez  Cynthy  says." 

After  examining  it  a  moment,  he  directed  Berry  to  lift 
up  the  other  end,  and  together  they  carried  it  to  the 
house  of  Eliab  Hill,  where  its  grotesque  characters  were 
interpreted,  so  far  as  he  was  able  to  translate  them,  as 
well  as  the  purport  of  a  warning  letter  fastened  on  the 
board  by  means  of  a  large  pocket-knife  thrust  through 
it,  and  left  sticking  in  the  soft  wood. 

Upon  the  head  of  the  coffin-shaped  board  was  roughly 


250  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

drawn,  in  black  paint,  a  skull  and  cross-bones  and,  under 
neath  them,  the  words  "  ELIAB  HILL  AND  NIMBUS  DES- 
MIT,"  and  below  these  still,  the  mystic  cabala,  "  K.K.K," 
a  formulary  at  which,  just  at  that  time,  a  great  part  of 
the  nation  was  laughing  as  a  capital  illustration  of  Ameri 
can  humor.  It  was  accounted  simply  a  piece  of  gro- 
tesquerie  intended  to  frighten  the  ignorant  and  super 
stitious  negro. 

The  old  claim  of  the  South,  that  the  colored  man  could 
be  controlled  and  induced  to  labor  only  by  the  lash  or 
its  equivalent,  had  many  believers  still,  even  among  the 
most  earnest  opponents  of  slavery,  and  not  a  few  of 
these  even  laughed  good-naturedly  at  the  grotesque  pic 
tures  in  illustrated  journals  of  shadowy  beings  in  horrible 
masks  and  terrified  negroes  cowering  in  the  darkness 
with  eyes  distended,  hair  rising  in  kinky  tufts  upon  their 
heads,  and  teeth  showing  white  from  ear  to  ear,  evi 
dently  clattering  like  castanets.  It  was  wonderfully  funny 
to  far-away  readers,  and  it  made  uproarious  mirth  in  the 
aristocratic  homes  of  the  South.  From  the  banks  of  the 
Rio  Grande  to  the  waters  of  the  Potomac,  the  lordly 
Southron  laughed  over  his  glass,  laughed  on  the  train, 
laughed  in  the  street,  and  laughed  under  his  black  cowl 
of  weirdly  decorated  muslin — not  so  much  at  the  victims 
of  the  terrible  Klan,  as  at  the  silly  North  which  was  shak 
ing  its  sides  at  the  mask  he  wore.  It  was  an  era  of  fun. 
Everybody  laughed.  The  street  gamins  imitated  the 
Kluck,  which  gave  name  to  the  Klan.  It  was  one  of 
the  funniest  things  the  world  had  ever  known. 

The  Yankee — Brother  Jonathan — had  long  been  noted 
as  a  droll.  A  grin  was  as  much  a  part  of  his  stock 
apparel  as  tow  breeches  or  a  palm-leaf  hat.  The  negro, 
too,  had  from  time  immemorial  been  portrayed  upon 
the  stage  and  in  fiction  as  an  irrepressible  and  inimitably 


A    VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS.  251 

farcical  fellow.  But  the  "  Southern  gentleman"  was  a 
man  of  different  kidney  from  either  of  these.  A  sar 
donic  dignity  hedged  him  about  with  peculiar  sacred- 
ness.  He  was  chivalrous  and  baronial  in  his  instincts, 
surroundings,  and  characteristics.  He  was  nervous,  ex 
citable,  and  bloodthirsty.  He  would  "  pluck  up  drowned 
honor  by  the  locks"  and  make  a  target  of  everyone  who 
laughed.  He  hunted,  fought,  gambled,  made  much  of 
his  ancestors,  hated  niggers,  despised  Yankees,  and 
swore  and  swaggered  on  all  occasions.  That  was  the 
way  he  was  pictured  in  the  ancient  days.  He  laughed — • 
sometimes — not  often,  and  then  somewhat  sarcastically 
— but  he  did  not  make  himself  ridiculous.  His  amour 
propre  was  most  intense.  He  appreciated  fun,  but  did 
not  care  that  it  should  be  at  his  expense.  He  was  grave, 
irritable  and  splenetic  ;  but  never  comical.  A  braggart, 
a  rough-rider,  an  aristocrat  ;  but  never  a  masquerader. 
That  was  the  old-time  idea. 

Yet  so  had  the  war  and  the  lapse  of  half  a  decade 
changed  this  people  that  in  one  State  forty  thousand 
men,  in  another  thirty,  in  others  more  and  in  others  less, 
banded  together  with  solemn  oaths  and  bloody  ceremon 
ies,  just  to  go  up  and  down  the  earth  in  the  bright  moon 
light,  and  play  upon  the  superstitious  fears  of  the  poor 
ignorant  and  undeveloped  people  around  them.  They 
became  a  race  of  jesters,  moonlight  masqueraders,  per- 
sonators  of  the  dead.  They  instituted  clubs  and  paraded 
by  hundreds,  the  trained  cavalry  of  a  ghostly  army  or 
ganized  into  companies,  battalions,  divisions,  depart 
ments,  having  at  their  head  the  "  Grand  Wizard  of  the 
Empire."  It  was  all  in  sport — a  great  jest,  or  at  the 
worst  designed  only  to  induce  the  colored  man  to  work 
somewhat  more  industriously  from  apprehension  of 
ghostly  displeasure.  It  was  a  funny  thing — the  gravest, 


-52  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

most  saturnine,  and  self-conscious  people  on  the  globe 
making  themselves  ridiculous,  ghostly  masqueraders  by 
the  hundred  thousand  !  The  world  which  had  lately 
wept  with  sympathy  for  the  misfortunes  of  the  "  Lost 
Cause,"  was  suddenly  convulsed  with  merriment  at  the 
midnight  antics  of  its  chivalric  defenders.  The  most 
vaunted  race  of  warriors  seized  the  cap  and  bells  and 
stole  also  the  plaudits  showered  upon  the  fool.  Grave 
statesmen,  reverend  divines,  legislators,  judges,  lawyers, 
generals,  merchants,  planters,  all  who  could  muster  a 
good  horse,  as  it  would  seem,  joined  the  jolly  cavalcade 
and  rollicked  through  the  moonlight  nights,  merely  to 
make  fun  for  their  conquerors  by  playing  on  the  su 
perstitious  fear  of  the  sable  allies  of  the  Northmen. 
Never  before  was  such  good-natured  complaisance,  such 
untiring  effort  to  please.  So  the  North  laughed,  the 
South  chuckled,  and  the  world  wondered. 

But  the  little  knot  of  colored  men  and  women  who 
stood  around  Eliab  Hill  while  he  drew  out  the  knife  which 
was  thrust  through  the  paper  into  the  coffin-shaped  board 
laid  across  the  front  of  his  "  go-cart,"1  and  with  trem 
bling  lips  read  the  message  it  contained — these  silly  crea 
tures  did  not  laugh.  They  did  not  even  smile,  and  a 
joke  which  Berry  attempted,  fell  flat  as  a  jest  made  at  a 
funeral. 

There  is  something  very  aggravating  about  the 
tendency  of  this  race  to  laugh  at  the  wrong  time,  and  to 
persist  in  being  disconsolate  when  every  one  can  see 
that  they  ought  to  dance.  Generation  after  generation 
of  these  perverse  creatures  in  the  good  old  days  of  slav 
ery  would  insist  on  going  in  search  of  the  North  Pole 
under  the  most  discouraging  circumstances.  On  foot 
and  alone,  without  money  or  script  or  food  or  clothing  ; 
without  guide  or  chart  or  compass  ;  without  arms  or 


A    VOICE  FROM  THE  DARKNESS.  253 

friends  ;  in  the  teeth  of  the  law  and  of  nature,  they  gave 
themselves  to  the  night,  the  frost,  and  all  the  dangers 
that  beset  their  path,  only  to  seek  what  they  did  not 
want  ! 

We  know  there  was  never  a  happier,  more  contented, 
light-hearted,  and  exuberant  people  on  the  earth  than 
the  Africo-American  slave  !  He  had  all  that  man 
could  reasonably  desire — and  more  too  !  Well-fed,  well- 
clothed,  luxuriously  housed,  protected  from  disease 
with  watchful  care,  sharing  the  delights  of  an  unrivalled 
climate,  relieved  of  all  anxiety  as  to  the  future  of  his  off 
spring,  without  fear  of  want,  defiant  of  poverty,  undis 
turbed  by  the  bickerings  of  society  or  heartburnings  of 
politics,  regardless  of  rank  or  station,  wealth,  kindred, 
or  descent,  it  must  be  admitted  that,  from  an  earthly 
point  of  view,  his  estate  was  as  near  Elysian  as  the  mind 
can  conceive.  Besides  all  this,  he  had  the  Gospel 
preached  unto  him — for  nothing  ;  and  the  law  kindly  se 
cured  him  against  being  misled  by  false  doctrines,  by  pro 
viding  that  the  Bread  of  Life  should  never  be  broken  to 
him  unless  some  reputable  Caucasian  were  present  to 
vouch  for  its  quality  and  assume  all  responsibility  as  to 
its  genuineness  ! 

That  a  race  thus  carefully  nourished,  protected,  and 
guarded  from  error  as  well  as  evil  should  be  happy,  was 
just  as  natural  as  that  the  sun  should  shine.  That  they 
were  happy  only  lunatics  could  doubt.  All  their  masters 
said  so.  They  even  raved  when  it  was  denied.  The 
ministers  of  the  Gospel — those  grave  and  reverend  men 
who  ministered  unto  them  in  holy  things,  who  led  their 
careless  souls,  blindfolded  and  trustful,  along  the  straight 
and  narrow  way — all  declared  before  high  Heaven  that 
they  were  happy,  almost  too  happy,  for  their  spiritual 
good.  Politicians,  and  parties,  and  newspapers  ;  those 


254  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STKA  W. 

who  lived  among  them  and  those  who  went  and  learned 
all  about  them  from  the  most  intelligent  and  high-toned 
of  their  Caucasian  fellow-beings — nigh  about  everybody, 
in  fact — declared,  affirmed,  and  swore  that  they  were  at 
the  very  utmost  verge  of  human  happiness  !  Yet  even 
under  these  circumstances  the  perverse  creatures  would 
run  away.  Indeed,  to  run  away  seemed  to  be  a  charac 
teristic  of  the  race  like  their  black  skin  and  kinkling  hair  ! 
It  would  have  seemed,  to  an  uninformed  on-looker, 
that  they  actually  desired  to  escape  from  the  paternal 
institution  which  had  thrown  around  their  lives  all  these 
blissful  and  beatifying  circumstances.  But  we  know  it 
was  not  so.  It  was  only  the  inherent  perversity  of  the 
race  ! 

Again,  when  the  war  was  ended  and  they  were 
thrown  upon  the  cold  charity  of  an  unfriendly  world, 
naked,  poor,  nameless,  and  homeless,  without  the  shel 
tering  and  protecting  care  of  that  master  who  had  ever 
before  been  to  them  the  incarnation  of  a  kindly  Provi 
dence — at  that  moment  when,  by  all  the  rules  which 
govern  Caucasian  human  nature,  their  eyes  should  have 
been  red  with  regretful  tears,  and  their  hearts  overbur 
dened  with  sorrow,  these  addled-pated  children  of  Africa, 
moved  and  instigated  by  the  perverse  devil  of  inherent 
contrariness,  were  grinning  from  ear  to  ear  with  exas 
perating  exultation,  or  bowed  in  still  more  exasperating 
devotion,  were  rendering  thanks  to  God  for  the  calamity 
that  had  befallen  them  ! 

So,  too,  when  the  best  people  of  the  whole  South  mas 
queraded  for  their  special  benefit,  they  stupidly  or  stub 
bornly  failed  and  refused  to  reward  their  "  best  friends  " 
for  the  entertainment  provided  for  them,  at  infinite  pains 
and  regardless  of  expense,  even  with  the  poor  meed  of 


A    VOICE   FROM  THE   DARKNESS.  255 

approving  cachirmation.  They  ought  to  have  been 
amused  ;  they  no  doubt  were  amused  ;  indeed,  it  is 
morally  impossible  that  they  should  not  have  been 
amused — but  they  would  not  laugh  !  Well  may  the  Cau 
casian  of  the  South  say  of  the  ebony  brother  whom  he 
has  so  long  befriended  and  striven  to  amuse  :  "  I  have 
piped  unto  you,  and  you  have  not  danced  !" 

So  Eliab  read,  to  a  circle  whose  cheeks  were  gray  with 
pallor,  and  whose  eyes  glanced  quickly  at  each  other 
with  affright,  these  words  : 

"  ELIAB  HILL  AND  NIMBUS  DESMIT  :  You've  been 
warned  twice,  and  it  hain't  done  no  good.  This  is  your 
last  chance.  If  you  don't  git  up  and  git  out  of  here  in 
side  of  ten  days,  the  buzzards  will  have  a  bait  that's  been 
right  scarce  since  the  war.  The  white  folks  is  going 
to  rule  Horsford,  and  sassy  niggers  must  look  out. 
We're  not  going  to  have  any  such  San  Domingo  hole  as 
Red  Wing  in  it,  neither.  Now  just  sell  off  and  pack  up  and 
git  clear  off  and  out  of  the  country  before  we  come 
again,  which  will  be  just  as  soon  as  the  moon  gits  in  the 
left  quarter,  and  has  three  stars  in  her  lower  horn.  If 
you're  here  then  you'll  both  need  coffins,  and  that  boy 
Berry  Lawson  that  you  coaxed  away  from  his  employer 
will  hang  with  you. 

"  Remember  !  Remember  !  REMEMBER  ! 

"  By  order  of  the  Grand  Cyclops  of  the  Den  and  his 
two  Night  Hawks,  and  in  the  presence  of  all  the  Ghouls, 
on  the  fifth  night  of  the  sixth  Dark  Moon  ! 

"K.  K.  K." 

Hardly  had  he  finislied  reading  this  when  a  letter  was 
brought  to  him  which  had  been  found  on  the  porch  of 
the  old  Ordinary.  It  was  addressed  to  "  Miss  MOLLIE 
AINSLIE,  Nigger  Teacher  at  Red  Wing,"  but  as  it  was 


256  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

indorsed  "  K.  K.  K."  Eliab  felt  no  compunctions  in 
opening  it  in  her  absence.  It  read  : 

"  Miss  AINSLIE  :  We  hain't  got  no  spite  against  you 
and  don't  mean  you  no  harm  ;  but  the  white  folks  owns 
this  country,  and  is  going  to  rule  it,  and  we  can't  stand 
no  such  nigger-equality  schools  as  you  are  running  at 
Red  Wing.  It's  got  to  stop,  and  you'd  better  pick  up 
and  go  back  North  where  you  come  from,  and  that  quick, 
if  you  want  to  keep  out  of  trouble.  Remember  ! 

"  By  order  of  the  Grand  Cyclops  of  the  Den  and  his 
Ghouls,  K.  K.  K." 


14  P.S.  We  don't  mean  to  hurt  you.  We  don't  make 
no  war  on  women  and  children  as  the  Yankees  did,  but 
we  mean  what  we  say — git  out  !  And  don't  come  back 
here  any  more  neither  !" 

The  rumor  of  the  mysterious  Klan  and  its  terrible 
doings  had  been  in  the  air  for  many  months.  From 
other  States,  and  even  from  adjoining  counties,  had  come 
to  their  ears  the  wail  of  its  victims.  But  so  preponder 
ating  was  the  colored  population  of  Horsford,  and  so 
dependent  upon  their  labor  was  its  prosperity,  that  they 
had  entertained  little  fear  of  its  coming  among  them. 
Two  or  three  times  before,  Nimbus  and  Eliab  had  re 
ceived  warnings  and  had  even  taken  some  precautions  in 
regard  to  defense  ;  but  they  did  not  consider  the  matter 
of  sufficient  moment  to  require  them  to  make  it  public. 
Indeed,  they  were  inclined  to  think  that  as  there  had 
been  no  acts  of  violence  in  the  county,  these  warnings 
were  merely  the  acts  of  mischievous  youngsters  who 
desired  to  frighten  them  into  a  display  of  fear.  This 
seemed  to  be  a  more  serious  demonstration,  but  they 
were  not  yet  prepared  to  give  full  credence  to  the  threat 
conveyed  in  so  fantastic  a  manner. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A    DIFFERENCE    OF    OPINION. 

"  WAL,  dey  manage  to  fotch  Berry  inter  it  widout 
sending  him  a  letter  all  to  hissef,  atter  all,"  said  that 
worthy,  when  Eliab,  with  pale  lips,  but  a  firm  voice, 
had  finished  reading  the  paper.  "  Ben  done  'spectin'  dat, 
all  de  time  sence  I  come  h'yer,  Cousin  Nimbus.  I'se  been 
a-hearin'  'bout  dese  Klu  Kluckers  dis  smart  while  now, 
ober  yer  in  Pocatel  and  Hanson  counties,  an'  I  'spected 
Marse  Sykes  'd  be  a-puttin'  'em  on  ter  me  jest  ez  soon 
as  dey  got  ober  here.  He  hed  no  idear,  yer  know,  but 
what  I'd  hev  ter  go  back  an'  wuk  fer  jes  what  I  could 
git ;  an  sence  I  hain't  he's  mad  about  it,  dat's  all. 
What  yer  gwine  ter  do  'bout  it,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  I'se  gwine  ter  stay  right  h'yer  an'  fight  it  out,  I  is," 
said  Nimbus,  doggedly.  'I'se  fout  fer  de  right  ter  live 
in  peace  on  my  own  Ian'  once,  an'  I  kin  fight  for  it  agin. 
Ef  de  Ku  Kluckers  wants  ter  try  an'  whip  Nimbus,  jes 
let  'em  come  on,"  he  said,  bringing  down  his  clenched 
right  hand  upon  the  board  which  was  upheld  by  his  left, 
with  such  force  that  it  was  split  from  end  to  end. 

"  Hi  !  you  take  keer  dar,  Cousin  Nimbus,"  said 
Berry,  hopping  out  of  the  way  of  the  falling  board  with 
an  antic  gesture.  "  Fust  you  know,  yer  hurt  yer  han' 
actin'  dat  er  way.  What  you  gwine  ter  do  'bout  dis  yer 
matter,  Uncle  'Liab  ?"  he  continued,  turning  to  the 
preacher. 

The  man  addressed  was  still  gazing  on  the  threatening 
letter.     His  left  hand  wandered  over  his  dark  beard,  but 
his  face  was  full  of  an  unwavering  light  as  he  replied  : 
'  The   Lord  called  me  to  my  work  ;  He  has  opened 
257 


258  JSA'SCA'S  WITHOUT  STA^l  Ur. 

many  a  door  before  me  and  taken  me  through  many 
trials.  He  has  written,  '  I  will  be  with  thee  alway, 
even  unto  the  end.'  Bless  His  holy  Name  !  Hitherto, 
when  evil  has  come  I  have  waited  on  Him.  I  may 
not  do  a  man's  part  like  you,  my  brother,"  he  con 
tinued,  laying  his  hand  on  Nimbus'  knotted  arm  and 
gazing  admiringly  upon  his  giant  frame,  "  but  I  can 
stand  and  wait,  right  here,  for  the  Lord's  will  to  be  done  ; 
and  here  I  will  stay — here  with  my  people.  Thank  the 
Lord,  if  I  am  unable  to  fight  I  am  also  unable  to  fly. 
He  knew  what  a  poor,  weak  creature  I  was,  and  He  has 
taken  care  of  that.  I  shall  stay,  let  others  do  as  they 
may.  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Brother  Berry  ?  You 
are  in  the  same  danger  with  Nimbus  and  me." 

"  Wai,  Bre'er  'Liab, "  replied  Berry,  "  I  hab  jcs  'bout 
made  up  my  min'  ter  run  fer  it.  Yer  see,  I'se  jes  a  bit 
differently  sarcumstanced  from  what  either  o'  you  'uns 
is.  Dar's  Nimbus  now,  he's  been  in  de  wah  an'  kno\vs 
all  'bout  de  fightin'  business  ;  an'"  you's  a  preacher  an' 
knows  all  der  is  ob  de  prayin'  trade.  But  I  never 
was  wuth  nothin'  ob  any  account  at  either.  It's  de  feet 
ez  hez  allers  stood  by  me,"  he  added,  executing  a 
double-shuffle  on  the  plank  walk  where  he  stood  ;  "  an' 
I  'Hows  ter  stan'  by  dem,  an'  light  outen  here,  afore 
dem  ar  Kluckers  comes  roun'  fer  an  answer  ter  dat 
ar  letter.  Pat's  my  notion,  Bre'er  'Liab." 

1  Yer  don't  mean  yer  gwine  ter  run  away  on  de  'count 
ob  dese  yer  Ku  Kluckers,  does  yer,  Berry  ?"  said  Nim 
bus,  angrily. 

"  Dat's  jes  'zackly  what  I  do  mean,  Cousin  Nimbus 
— no  mistake  'bout  dat,"  answered  Berry,  bowing  to 
wards  Nimbus  with  a  great  show  of  mock  politeness. 
"  What  else  did  yer  tink  Berry  mean,  hey  ?  Didn't  my 
words  'spress  demselves  cl'ar  ?  Yer  know,  cousin,  dat 


A    DIFFERENCE   OF  OPINION.  259 

I'se  not  one  ob  de  fightin*  kine.  Nebber  hed  but  one 
fight  in  my  life,  an'  den  dar  wuz  jes  de  wuss  whipped 
nigger  you  ebber  seed.  Yer  see  dem  sinners,  eh  ?" 
rolling  up  his  sleeve  and  showing  a  round,  close-corded 
arm.  "  Oh,  I'se  some  when  I  gits  started,  I  is.  All 
whip-cord  an'  chain-lightnin',  whoop  !  I'll  bet  a  harf 
dollar  now,  an  borrer  de  money  from  Bre'er  Nimbus 
h'yer  ter  pay  it,  dat  I  kin  turn  more  han'-springs  an' 
offener  an'  longer  nor  ary  man  in  dis  crowd.  Oh,  I'se 
some  an'  more  too,  I  is,  an'  don't  yer  fergit  it. 
'Bout  dat  fight  ?"  he  continued  to  a  questioner,  "  oh, 
yes,  dat  was  one  ob  de  mos'  'markable  fights  dar's  ever 
been  in  Ho'sford  county.  Yer  see  'twuz  all  along  uv 
Ben  Slade  an'  me.  Lor'  bress  yer,  how  we  did  fight  ! 
'Pears  ter  me  dat  it  must  hev  been  nigh  'bout  harf  a 
day  we  wuz  at  it." 

"But  you  didn't  lick  Ben,  did  you.  Berry?"  asked 
one  of  the  bystanders  in  surprise. 

"  Lick  him  ?  Yer  jes'  orter  see  de  corn  I  wollered 
down  'long  wid  dat  nigga'  !  Dar  must  hev  been  close 
on  ter  harf  an  acre  on't." 

"  But  he's  a  heap  bigger'n  you,  Berry,  ez  stout  ez  a 
bull  an'  one  ob  de  bes'  fighters  ebber  on  de  hill  at  Louis- 
burg.  Yer  jest  romancin'  now,  Berry,"  said  Nimbus, 
incredulously. 

"  Oh,  but  yer  don't  understan'  it,  cousin,"  said 
Berry.  "  Yer  see  I  played  fer  de  under  holt — an'  got  it, 
dat  I  did.  Lor'  !  how  dat  ar  Ben  did  thrash  de  groun' 
wid  me  !  Ole  Mahs'r  lost  a  heap  ob  corn  on  'count  dat 
ar  fight  !  But  I  hung  on  ter  him,  an'  nebber  would  hev 
let  him  go  till  now,  ef — ef  somebody  hedn't  pulled  me 
out  from  under  him  !" 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter  at  this,  in  which  Berry 
joined  heartily,  and  as  it  began  to  die  out  he  continued  : 


260  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Dat's  de  only  fight  I  ebber  bed,  an'  I  don't  want  no 
mo'.  I'se  a  peaceable  man,  an'  don't  want  ter  hurt  no 
body.  Ef  de  Kluckers  wants  ter  come  whar  I  is, 
an'  gibs  me  sech  a  perlite  notice  ez  dat  ter  quit,  I'se 
gwine  ter  git  out  widout  axin'  no  imper'ent  questions 
'bout  who  was  dar  fust.  An'  I'se  gwine  ter  keep  gittin'  > 
tu — jest'  ez  fur  an'  ez  fast  cz  dey  axes  me  ter  move  on, 
ez  long  ez  de  road's  cut  out  an'  1  don't  come  ter  no 
jumpin'-off  place.  Ef  dey  don't  approve  of  Berry  Law- 
son  a  stayin'  roun'  h'ycr,  he's  jes'  a  gwine  West  ter  grow 
up  wid  der  kentry. " 

"I'd  sooner  be  dead  than  be  sech  a  limber-jinted 
coward  !"  said  Nimbus.  "I'm  sorry  I  ebber  tuk  ye  in 
atter  Marse  Sykes  hed  put  yer  out  in  de  big  road,  dat  I 
am."  There  was  a  murmur  of  approval,  and  he  added  : 
"  An'  ef  yer  lied  enny  place  ter  go  ter,  yer  shouldn't  stay 
in  my  house  nary  'nother  minit." 

"  Now,  Cousin  Nimbus,"  said  Berry,  soberly,  "  dar 
hain't  nary  bit  ob  use  ob  enny  sech  talk  ter  me.  Berry 
arns  his  libbin'  ef  he  does  hab  his  joke  now  an'  agin." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt  o'  dat,"  said  Nimbus.  '  Trier  ain't 
no  better  harT  in  enny  crop  dan  Berry  Lawson.  I've 
said  dat  often  an'  over." 

"  Den  yer  jes  take  back  dem  hard  words  yer  spoke 
'bout  Berry,  won't  yer  now,  Cousin  Nimbus?"  said 
Berry,  sidling  up  to  him  and  looking  very  much  as  if 
he  intended  to  give  the  lie  to  his  own  account  of  his  fight 
ing  proclivities. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Nimbus,  positively.  "  I  do  say 
dat  any  man  ez  runs  away  kase  de  Ku  Kluck  tries  ter 
scar  him  off  is  a  damn  coward,  'n  I  don't  care  who  he 
calls  his  name  neither." 

"Wai,    now,  Cousin   Nimbus,"   said   Berry,    his  eyes 


A   DIFFERENCE   OF  OPINION.  261 

flashing  and  his  whole  appearance  falsifying  his  previous 
poltroonery,  "  dar's  two  sides  ter  dat  ar  question.  I 
hain't  nebber  been  a  sojer  like  you,  cousin,  an'  it's  a 
fac'  dat  I  don't  keer  ter  be  ;  but  I  du  say  ez  how  I'd  be 
ez  willin'  ter  stan'  up  an'  fight  fer  de  rights  we's  got  ez 
enny  man  dat  ebber's  trod  de  sile  ennywhere's  'bout 
Red  Wing,  ef  I  thought  ez  how  'twould  do  de  least  bit 
ob  good.  But  I  tell  yer,  gemmen,  hit  won't  do  enny 
good,  not  de  least  bit,  an'  I  knows  it.  I'se  seen  de  Ku 
Kluckers,  gemmen,  an'  I  knows  who  some  on  'em  is,  an' 
I  knows  dat  when  sech  men  takes  hold  ob  sech  a  matter 
wid  only  pore  niggers  on  de  udder  side,  dar  ain't  no 
chance  fer  de  niggers.  I'se  seen  'em,  an'  I  knows." 

"When?"  "Whar?"  "  Tell  us 'bout  it,  Berry  !"  came 
up  from  all  sides  in  the  crowd  which  had  collected  until 
now  almost  all  the  inhabitants  of  Red  Wing  and  its  vi 
cinity  were  there. 

"  Oh,  'tain't  nuffin',"  said  he,  nonchalantly.  "  What 
Berry  says  ain't  no  'count,  nohow." 

"  Yes,  tell  us  'bout  it,"  said  Nimbus,  in  a  concilia 
tory  tone. 

"  Wai,  ef  you  wants  ter  hear,  I'll  tell  it,"  said  Berry, 
condescendingly.  '  Yer  mind  some  tree  er  fo'  weeks 
ago  I  went  ter  Bre'er  Rufe's,  ober  in  Hanson  county,  on 
a  Friday  night,  an'  didn't  git  back  till  a  Monday  morn- 


m 


(  i    o 


Sartin,"  said  Nimbus,  gravely. 
"Wai,  'twas  along  o'  dis  yer  business  dat  I  went 
thar.  I  know'd  yer'd  got  one  er  two  warnin's  sence  I'd 
come  yere  wid  yer,  an'  I  'Ho wed  it  were  on  account  ob  me, 
kase  dem  ar  Sykeses  is  monstrous  bad  folks  when  dey  gits 
mad,  an'  ole  Marse  Granville,  he  war  powerful  mad  at  me 
findin'  a  home  here  wid  my  own  relations.  So,  I  tole 
Sally  Ann  all  'bout  it,  an'  I  sez  to  her,  '  Sally,'  sez  I, 


262  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

1  I  don't  want  ter  make  Nimbus  no  sort  o'  trouble,  I 
don't,  kase  he's  stood  up  ter  us  like  a  man.  Now,  ef  dey 
should  take  a  notion  ter  trouble  Bre'er  Nimbus,  hit 
mout  do  him  a  heap  of  harm,  kase  he's  got  so  much 
truck  'round  him  here  ter  lose.'  So  we  made  it  up 
dat  I  was  ter  go  ter  Bre'er  Rufe  Paterson's,  ober  in 
Hanson  county  an'  see  ef  we  couldn't  find  a  place  ter 
lib  dar,  so's  not  ter  be  baitin'  de  hawks  on  ter  you, 
Cousin  Nimbus." 

"  Now  you,  Berry,"  said  Nimbus,  extending  his  hand 
heartily,  "  what  for  yer  no  tell  me  dis  afore  ?" 

"  Jes  kase  'twas  no  use."  answered  Berry.  "  Wall, 
yer  know,  I  left  h'yer  'bout  two  hours  ob  de  sun,  an'  I 
pushes  on  right  peart,  kase  it's  a  smart  step  ober  ter 
Rufe's,  ennyhow,  an'  I  wanted  ter  see  him  an'  git  back 
ter  help  Nimbus  in  de  crap  ob  a  Monday.  Sally  hed 
fixed  me  up  a  bite  o'  bread  an'  a  piece  o'  meat,  an'  I 
'llowed  I'd  jes  stop  in  some  piney  ole-field  when  I  got 
tired,  eat  my  snack,  go  ter  sleep,  an'  start  fresh  afo* 
daylight  in  de  mornin'  for  de  rest  ob  de  way.  I'd  been 
a  wukkin'  right  peart  in  de  new-ground  dat  day, 
an'  when  I  got  ter  dat  pine  thicket  jes  past  de 
spring  by  de  Brook's  place,  'twixt  de  Haw  Ribber  an' 
Stony  Fork,  'long  'bout  nine  o'clock  I  reckon,  1  wuz 
dat  done  out  dat  I  jes  takes  a  drink  at  de  spring,  eats  a 
bite  o'  bread  an'  meat,  hunts  a  close  place  under  de 
pines,  an'  goes  ter  sleep  right  away. 

"  Yer  knows  dar's  a  smart  open  place  dar,  whar  dey 
used  ter  hev  de  ole  muster-ground.  'Twas  de  time  ob 
defull  moon,  an'  when  I  woke  up  a-hearin'  somethin',  an' 
kind  o'  peeped  out  under  de  pine  bushes,  I  t'ought  at  fust 
dat  it  was  de  ghostesses  ob  de  ole  chaps  dat  hed  come 
back  ter  muster  dar,  sure  'nough.  Dey  warn't  more'n 
ten  steps  away  from  me,  an'  de  boss  man,  he  sot  wid  his 


A    DIFFERENCE   OF   OPINION.  263 

back  to  me  in  dat  rock  place  what  dey  calls  de  Lubber's 
Cheer.  De  bosses  was  tied  all  round  ter  de  bushes,  an' 
one  ob  'em  warn't  more'n  tree  steps  from  me,  nobow. 
I  heard  'em  talk  jest  ez  plain  ez  you  can  hear  me,  an'  I 
know'd  right  smart  ob  de  voices,  tu  ;  but,  la  sakes  !  yer 
couldn't  make  out  which  from  t'odder  wid  dem  tings 
dey  bed"  on,  all  ober  der  heads,  an'  way  down  to  der 
feet." 

11  What  did  they  say  ?"   asked  Eliab  Hill. 

"  Wai,  Bre'er  'Liab,  dey  sed  a  heap,  but  de  upshot 
on't  all  was  dat  de  white  folks  bed  jes  made  up  dar 
min's  ter  run  dis  kentry,  spite  ob  ebbery  ting.  Dey  sed 
dat  dey  wuz  all  fixed  up  in  ebbery  county  from  ole  Vir- 
ginny  clean  ter  Texas,  an'  dey  wuz  gwine  ter  teach  de 
niggers  dere  place  agin,  ef  dey  bed  ter  kill  a  few  in  each 
county  an'  hang  'em  up  fer  scarecrows — jes  dat  'ere 
way.  Dey  wa'n't  no  spring  chickens,  nuther.  Dar 
wur  Sheriff  Gleason.  He  sed  he'd  corned  over  ter 
let  'em  know  how  they  was  gittin'  on  in  Ho'sford.  He 
sed  dat  ebbery  white  man  in  de  county  'cept  about  ten  or 
twelve  was  inter  it,  an'  dey  wuz  a  gwine  ter  clean  out  nig 
ger  rule  h'yer,  shore.  He  sed  de  fust  big  thing  they  got  on 
hand  wuz  ter  break  up  dis  buzzard-roost  h'yer  at 
Red  Wing,  an'  he  'llowed  dat  wouldn't  be  no  hard  wuk 
kase  dey'd  got  some  pretty  tough  tings  on  Nimbus  an' 
'Liab  both. 

"Dey  wuz  all  good  men.  I  seed  de  bosses,  when  dey 
mounted  ter  go  "way.  I  tell  ye  dey  wuz  good  'uns  !  No 
pore-white  trash  dar  ;  no  lame  bosses  ner  blind  mules 
ner  wukked  down  crap-critters.  Jes  sleek  gentlemen's 
bosses,  all  on  'em. 

"  Wai,  dey  went  off  atter  an  hour  er  two,  an'  I  lay 
dar  jes  in  a  puffick  lather  o'  sweat.  I  was  dat  dar 
skeered,  I  couldn't  sleep  no  mo'  dat  ar  night,  an'  I 


264  BRICK'S    WITHOUT  STRAW. 

darsn't  walk  on  afore  day  kase  I  wuz  af eared  o'  meetin' 
some  on  'em.  So  I  lay,  an'  t'ought  dis  ting  all  ober, 
an'  I  tell  ye,  fellers,  'tain't  no  use.  'Spose  all  de  white 
men  in  Ho'sford  is  agin  us,  what's  we  gvvine  ter  do  ? 
We  can't  lib.  Lots  o'  niggers  can't  lib  a  week  widout 
wuk  from  some  white  man.  'Sides  dat,  dey's  got  de 
hosses  an'  de  guns,  an*  de  'sperience  ;  an'  what  we  got  ? 
Jes  nuffin'.  Der  ain't  no  mo'  use  o'fightin'  dan  ob  tryin* 
ter  butt  down  'simmons  off  a  foot-an'-a-half  tree  wid 
yer  head.  It  don't  make  no  sort  o'  matter  'bout  our 
rights.  Co'se  we'se  got  a  right  ter  vote,  an'  hold  meet- 
in's,  an'  be  like  white  folks  ;  but  we  can't  do  it  ef  dey's 
a  mind  ter  stop  us.  An'  dey  is — dat  berry  ting  ! 

*'  Nimbus  sez  he's  gwine  ter  fight,  an'  'Liab  sez  he's 
gwine  ter  pray.  Dat's  all  right,  but  it  won't  do  nobody 
else  enny  good  nor  them  nuther.  Dat's  my  notion. 
What  good  did  fight  in'  er  prayin'  either  used  ter  do  in 
ole  slave  times  ?  Nary  bit.  An'  dey's  got  us  jest  about 
ez  close  ez  dey  hed  us  den,  only  de  halter-chain's  a  leetle 
mite  longer,  dat's  all.  All  dey's  got  ter  do  is  jes  ter 
shorten  up  on  de  rope  an 'it  brings  us  in,  all  de  same  ez 
ever.  Dat's  my  notion.  So  I'se  gwine  ter  move  on 
ebbery  time  dey  axes  me  tu  ;  kase  why,  I  can't  help  it. 
Berry'll  git  enough  ter  eat  most  ennywhar,  an'  dat's  'bout 
all  he  'spects  in  dis  worl'.  It's  a  leetle  better  dan  de 
ole  slave  times,  an'  ef  it  keeps  on  a-growin'  better  'n  bet 
ter,  gineration  atter  gineration,  p'raps  some  of  Berry's 
kinfolks'll  git  ter  hev  a  white  man's  chance  some  time." 

Berry's  experience  was  listened  to  with  profound  in 
terest,  but  his  conclusions  were  not  received  with  favor. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  general  conviction  that  the  colored 
race  was  to  be  put  on  trial,  and  that  it  must  show  its 
manhood  by  defending  itself  and  maintaining  its  rights 
against  all  odds.  His  idea  of  running  away  was  voted  a 


A   DIFFERENCE   OF  OPINION.  265 

cowardly  and  unworthy  one,  and  the  plan  advocated  by 
Nimbus  and  Eliab,  to  stay  and  fight  it  out  or  take  what 
ever  consequences  might  result,  was  accepted  as  the 
true  one  to  be  adopted  by  men  having  such  responsi 
bility  as  rested  upon  them,  as  the  first  generation  of  free 
men  in  the  American  history  of  their  race. 

So,  Nimbus  and  his  friends  made  ready  to  fight  by 
holding  a  meeting  in  the  church,  agreeing  upon  signals, 
taking  account  of  their  arms,  and  making  provision  to 
get  ammunition.  Berry  prepared  for  his  exodus  by 
going  again  to  his  brother  Rufus'  house  and  engaging  to 
work  on  a  neighboring  plantation,  and  some  two  weeks 
afterward  he  borrowed  Nimbus'  mule  and  carry-all 
and  removed  his  family  also.  As  a  sort  of  safeguard 
on  this  last  journey,  he  borrowed  from  Eliab  Hill  a  re 
peating  Spencer  carbine,  which  a  Federal  soldier  had  left 
at  the  cabin  of  that  worthy,  soon  after  the  downfall  of 
the  Confederacy.  He  was  probably  one  of  those  men 
who  determined  to  return  home  as  soon  as  they  were 
convinced  that  the  fighting  was  over.  Sherman's  army, 
where  desertion  had  been  unknown  during  the  war,  lost 
thousands  of  men  in  this  manner  between  the  scene  of 
Johnston's  surrender  and  the  Grand  Review  at  Washing 
ton,  which  ended  the  spectacular  events  of  the  war. 
Eliab  had  preserved  this  carbine  very  carefully,  not  re 
garding  it  as  his  own,  but  ready  to  surrender  it  to  the 
owner  or  to  any  proper  authority  when  demanded.  It 
was  useless  without  the  proper  ammunition,  and  as  this 
seemed  to  be  a  peculiar  emergency,  he  allowed  Berry  to 
take  it  on  condition  that  he  should  stop  at  Boyleston  and 
get  a  supply  of  cartridges.  Eliab  had  never  fired  a  gun 
in  his  life,  but  he  believed  in  defending  his  rights,  and 
thought  it  well  to  be  ready  to  resist  unlawful  violence 
should  it  be  offered. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE      MAJESTY     OF     T  H  K     L  A  W. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  events  narrated  in  the  last  two 
ch-ipters,  the  sheriff  presented  himself  at  Red  Wing. 
There  was  a  keen,  shrewd  look  in  the  cold,  gray  eyes 
under  the  overhanging  brows,  as  he  tied  his  horse  to  the 
rack  near  the  church,  and  taking  his  saddle-bags  on  his 
arm,  crossed  the  road  toward  the  residence  of  Nimbus 
and  Eliab  Hill. 

Red  Wing  had  always  been  a  remarkably  peaceful  and 
quiet  settlement.  Acting  under  the  advice  of  Miss 
Ainslie  and  Eliab,  Nimbus  had  parted  with  none  of 
his  possessions  except  upon  terms  which  prevented  the 
sale  of  spirituous  liquors  there.  This  was  not  on  account 
of  any  "fanatical"  prejudice  in  favor  of  temperance, 
since  the  Squire  of  Red  Wing  was  himself  not  exactly 
averse  to  an  occasional  dram  ;  but  he  readily  perceived 
that  if  such  sale  could  be  prohibited  in  the  little  village 
the  chances  for  peace  and  order  would  be  greatly  im 
proved.  He  recognized  the  fact  that  those  characters 
that  were  most  likely  to  assemble  around  a  bar-room 
were  not  the  most  likely  to  be  valuable  residents  of  the 
settlement.  Besides  the  condition  in  his  own  deeds, 
therefore,  he  had  secured  through  the  members  of  the 
Legislature  from  his  county  the  passage  of  an  act  for 
ever  prohibiting  the  sale  of  spirituous  liquors  within  one 
mile  of  the  school-house  at  Red  Wing.  Just  without 
this  limit  several  little  shanties  had  been  erected  where 
chivalric  white  men  doled  out  liquor  to  the  hard-work 
ing  colored  men  of  Red  Wing.  It  was  an  easy  and  an 
honorable  business  and  they  did  not  feel  degraded  by 

266 


THE  MAJESTY  OF  THE   LAW.  267 

contact  with  the  freedmen  across  the  bar.  The  superior 
race  did  not  feel  itself  debased  by  selling  bad  whisky  at 
an  extravagant  price  to  the  poor,  thirsty  Africans  who 
went  by  the  "  shebangs  "  to  and  from  their  daily  toil. 
But  Nimbus  and  the  law  would  not  allow  the  nearer  ap 
proach  of  such  influences. 

By  these  means,  with  the  active  co-operation  of  the 
teachers,  Red  Wing  had  been  kept  so  peaceful,  that  the 
officers  of  the  law  rarely  had  occasion  to  appear  within 
its  limits,  save  to  collect  the  fiscal  dues  from  its  citizens. 

It  was  with  not  a  little  surprise,  therefore,  that  Nim 
bus  saw  the  stalwart  sheriff  coming  towards  him  where 
he  was  at  work  upon  the  hillside  back  of  his  house, 
"worming"  and  "topping"  afield  of  tobacco  which 
gave  promise  of  a  magnificent  yield. 

"  Mornin',  Nimbus,"  said  the  officer,  as  he  drew  near, 
and  turning  partially  around  glanced  critically  over  the 
field  and  furtively  at  the  little  group  of  buildings  below. 
"  A  fine  stand  of  terbacker  you've  got — mighty  even, 
good  growth.  Don't  think  I've  seen  quite  as  good-look 
ing  a  crap  this  year.  There's  old  man  George  Price  up 
about  Rouseville,  he's  got  a  mighty  fine  crap — always 
does  have,  you  know.  I  saw  it  yesterday  and  didn't 
think  anything  could  be  better,  but  your's  does  beat  it, 
that's  sure.  It's  evener  and  brighter,  and  a  trifle  heavier 
growth,  too.  I  told  him  that  if  anybody  in  the  county 
could  equal  it  you  were  the  man  ;  but  I  had  no  idea  you 
could  beat  it.  This  is  powerful  good  land  for  terbacker, 
certain." 

'Tain't  so  much  the  land,"  said  Nimbus,  standing 
up  to  his  arm-pits  in  the  rank-leaved  crop  above  which 
his  bare  black  arms  glistened  in  the  hot  summer  sun, 
"  as  'tis  the  keer  on't.  Powerful  few  folks  is  willin'  ter 
give  the  kter  itt  takes  ter  grow  an'  cure  a  fine  crop  o' 


268  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

terbacker.  Ther  ain't  a  minit  from  the  time  yer  plant 
the  seed-bed  till  ye  sell  the  leaf,  that  ye  kin  take  yer 
finger  offen  it  widout  resk  ob  losin'  all  yer  wuk." 

44  That's  so,"  responded  the  sheriff,  44  but  the  land  has 
a  heap  to  do  with  it,  after  all." 

44  Ob  co'se, "  said  Nimbus,  as  he  broke  a  sucker  into 
short  pieces  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  "  yer's  got 
ter  hab  de  sile  ;  but  ther's  a  heap  mo'  jes  ez  good  ter 
backer  Ian'  ez  dis,  ef  people  only  hed  the  patience  ter 
wuk  it  ez  I  do  mine." 

"  Wai,  now,  there's  not  so  much  like  this,"  said  the 
sheriff,  sharply,  4i  and  you  don't  think  so,  neither.  You 
wouldn't  take  a  big  price  for  your  t\vo  hundred  acres 
here  now."  He  watched  the  other's  countenance  sharp 
ly  as  he  spoke,  but  the  training  of  slavery  made  the  face 
of  the  black  Ajax  simply  Sphinx-like  in  its  inscrutability. 

14  Wai,  I  don't  know,"  said  Nimbus,  slowly,  4<  I 
mout  and  then  again  I  moutn't,  yer  know.  Ther'd  be 
a  good  many  pints  ter  think  over  besides  the  quality  of 
the  sile  afore  I'd  want  ter  say  '  yes  '  er  4  no  '  to  an  offer 
ob  dat  kind." 

4  That's  what  I  thought,,"  said  the  sheriff.  "  You 
are  nicely  fixed  here,  and  I  don't  blame  you.  I  had 
some  little  business  with  you,  and  I'm  glad  I  come  to 
day  and  caught  ye  in  your  terbacker.  It's  powerful 
fine." 

44  Business  wid  me?"  asked  Nimbus  in  surprise. 
44  What  is  it?" 

44  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  officer,  lightly,  as  he 
put  on  his  spectacles,  opened  his  saddle-bags  and  took 
out  some  papers.  4<  Some  of  these  lawyers  have  got 
after  you,  I  suppose,  thinking  you're  getting  along  too 
peart.  Let  me  see,"  he  continued,  shuffling  over  the 
papers  in  his  hand.  44  Here's  a  summons  in  a  civil  ao 


THE  MAJESTY  OF  THE  LAW.  269 

tion — the  old  man,  Granville  Sykes,  against  Nimbus 
Desmit  and  Eliab  Hill.  Where  is  'Liab  ?  I  must  see 
him,  too.  Here's  your  copy,"  he  continued,  handing 
Nimbus  the  paper  and  marking  the  date  of  service  on 
the  original  in  pencil  with  the  careless  promptitude  of 
the  well-trained  official. 

Nimbus  looked  at  the  paper  which  was  handed  him  in 
undisguised  astonishment. 

"What  is  dis  ting,  anyhow.  Marse  Sheriff?"  he 
asked. 

"  That  ?  Why,  that  is  a  summons.  Can't  you  read 
it  ?  Here,  let  me  take  it." 

He  read  over  the  legal  formulary  requiring  Nimbus  to 
be  and  appear  at  the  court  house  in  Louisburg  on  the  sixth 
Monday  after  the  second  Monday  in  August,  to  answer 
the  demand  of  the  plaintiff  against  him,  and  concluding 
with  the  threat  that  in  default  of  such  appearance  judg 
ment  would  be  entered  up  against  him. 

'  You  see,  you've  got  to  come  and  answer  old  man 
Gran  ville's  complaint,  and  after  that  you  will  have  a  trial. 
You'll  have  to  get  a  lawyer,  and  I  expect  there'll  be 
smart  of  fuss  about  it  before  it's  over.  But  you  can 
afford  it  ;  a  man  as  well  fixed  as  you,  that  makes 
such  terbacker  as  this,  can  afford  to  pay  a  lawyer  right 
smart.  I've  no  doubt  the  old  man  will  get  tired  of  it 
before  you  do  ;  but,  after  all,  law  is  the  most  uncertain 
thing  in  the  world." 

"What  does  it  mean?  Has  he  sued  me?"  asked 
Nimbus. 

"  Sued  you  ?  I  should  rather  think  he  had — for  a 
thousand  dollars  damages  too.  That  is  you  and  'Liab, 
between  you." 

"  But  what  for  ?  I  don't  owe  him  any  thin'  an'  never 
did." 


27°  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW* 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing.  He  says  you've  damaged  him. 
I've  forgot  what  it's  about.  Let  me  see.  Oh,  yes,  I  re 
member  now.  He  says  you  and  'Liab  enticed  away  his 
servant — what's  his  name  ?  that  limber-jinted,  whistlin' 
feller  you've  had  working  for  you  for  a  spell." 

"  What,  Berry?" 

"  That's  it,  Berry — Berry  Lawson.  That's  the  very 
chap.  Well,  old  Granville  says  you  coaxed  him  to  leave 
his  employ,  and  he's  after  you  under  the  statute." 

"  But  it's  a  lie — every  word  on't  !  I  nebber  axed 
Berry  ter  leave  him,  an'  hed  no  notion  he  was  a  gwine  ter 
do  it  till  MarseSykes  throwed  him  out  in  de  big  road." 

"  Wai,  wal,  I  don't  know  nothing  about  that,  I'm 
sure.  He  says  you  did,  you  say  you  didn't.  I  s'pose 
it'll  take  a  court  and  jury  to  decide  betwixt  ye.  It's 
none  of  my  concern.  Oh,  yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  like 
to  have  forgot  it,  but  here's  a  capias  for  you,  too — you 
and  'Liab  again.  It  seems  there's  a  bill  of  indictment 
against  you.  I  presume  it's  the  same  matter.  I  must 
have  a  bond  on  this  for  your  appearance,  so  you'd  bet 
ter  come  on  down  to  'Liab's  house  with  me.  I'll  take 
you  for  him,  and  him  for  you,  as  sureties.  1  don't  sup 
pose  'Liab'll  be  apt  to  run  away,  eh,  and  you're  worth 
enough  for  both." 

"  What's  this  all  about  ?"   asked  Nimbus. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  the  old  man  Sykes  got  ye  indicted 
under  the  statute  making  it  a  misdemeanor,  punishable 
with  fine  and  imprisonment,  to  coax,  hire,  or  seduce 
away  one's  niggers  after  he's  hired  'em.  Just  the  same 
question  as  the  other,  only  this  is  an  indictment  and 
that's  a  civil  action — an  action  under  the  code,  as  they 
call  it,  since  you  Radicals  tinkered  over  the  law.  One  is 
for  the  damage  to  old  man  Sykes,  and  the  other  because 
it's  a  crime  to  coax  off  or  harbor  any  one's  hirelings." 


THE   MAJESTY   OF  THE   LA  11'.  271 

"  Is  dat  de  law,  Mister  Sheriff  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  that's  the  law,  fast  enough.  No  trouble 
about  that.  Didn't  know  it,  did  you  ?  Thought  you 
could  go  and  take  a  man's  "hands"  right  out  from  under 
his  nose,  and  not  get  into  trouble  about  it,  didn't  ye  ?" 

"  I  t'ought  dat  when  a  man  was  free  anudder  could 
hire  him  widout  axin'  leave  of  his  marster.  Dat's  what 
I  t'ought  freedom  meant." 

"  Oh,  not  exactly  ;  there's  lots  of  freedom  lyin'  round 
loose,  but  it  don't  allow  a  man  to  hire  another  man's 
hands,  nor  give  them  aid  and  comfort  by  harboring  and 
feeding  them  when  they  break  their  contracts  and  run 
away..  I  reckon  the  old  man's  got  you,  Nimbus.  If 
one  hook  don't  catch,  the  other  will.  You've  been  har- 
borin'  the  cuss,  if  you  didn't  entice  him  away,  and  that's 
just  the  same." 

"  Ef  you  mean  by  harborin'  that  I  tuk  my  wife's  kins 
man  in  when  ole  Marse  Sykes  turned  his  family  out  in 
de  big  road  like  a  damned  ole  rascal- " 

"  Hold  on,  Nimbus  !"  said  the  sheriff,  with  a  danger 
ous  light  in  his  cold  gray  eyes  ;  "  you'd  better  not  talk 
like  that  about  a  white  gentleman." 

"Whose  ter  hender  my  talkin',  I'd  like  ter  know? 
Hain't  I  jes'  de  same  right  ter  talk  ez  you  er  Marse 
Sykes,  an'  wouldn't  you  call  me  a  damn  rascal  ef  I'd 
done  ez  he  did  ?  Ain't  I  ez  free  ez  he  is  ?" 

''  You  ain't  white  !"  hissed  the  sheriff. 

"  No,  an'  it  seems  I  ain't  free,  nuther  !'"  was  the  hot 
reply.  "  H'yer  t'other  night  some  damn  scoundrels — 
I  'specs  they  vvuz  white,  too,  an'  yer  may  tell  'em  from 
me  dat  I  called  'em  jes  what  I  did — come  an'  hung  a 
board  'fore  my  gate  threatening  ter  kill  me  an'  'Liab 
kase  we's  '  too  sassy,'  so  they  sed.  Now,  'Liab  Hill  ner 
me  nebber  disturb  nobody,  an'  nebber  do  nothin'  only 


272  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

jes  stan*  up  for  our  own  rights,  respectful  and  peace- 
able-like  ;  but  we  hain't  ter  be  run  down  in  no  sech  way. 
I'se  a  free  man,  an'  ef  I  think  a  man's  a  gran'  rascal  I'se 
gvvine  ter  say  so,  whether  he's  black  er  white  ;  an'  ef 
enny  on  'em  comes  ter  Ku  Klux  me  I'll  put  a  bullet 
t'rough  dem  !  I  will,  by  God  !  Ef  1  breaks  the  law  I'll 
take  the  consequences  like  a  man,  but  I'll  be  damned  ef 
cnnybody  shall  Ku  Kluck  me  without  somebody's  goin' 
'long  with  me,  when  I  drops  outen  dis  world  !  Dat 
much  I'se  sot  on  !" 

The  sheriff  did  not  answer,  only  to  say,  "  Careful, 
careful  !  There's  them  that  would  give  you  a  high 
limb  if  they  heard  you  talk  like  that." 

They  went  together  to  the  house.  The  required 
bonds  were  given,  and  the  sheriff  started  off  with  a 
chuckle.  He  had  hardly  passed  out  of  sight  when  he 
checked  his  horse,  returned,  and  calling  Nimbus  to  the 
gate,  said  to  him  in  a  low  tone  : 

"  See  here,  Nimbus,  if  you  should  ever  get  in  the  no 
tion  of  selling  this  place,  remember  and  let  me  have  the 
first  chance." 

"  All  right,  Marse  Gleason." 

"  And  see  here,  these  little  papers  I've  served  to-day — 
you  needn't  have  any  trouble  about  them  in  that  case. 
You  understand,"  with  a  wink. 

11  Dunno  ez  I  does,  Marse  Sheriff,"  stolidly. 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  sell  to  me,  I'll  take  care  of  them, 
that's  all." 

"  An'  ef  I  don't?" 

"  Oh,  well,  in  that  case,  you  must  look  out  for  your 
self." 

He  wheeled  his  horse  and  rode  off  with  a  mocking 
laugh. 

Nimbus  returned  to  the  porch  of  Eliab's  house  where 


A  PARTICULAR   TENANCY  LAPSES.  273 

the  preacher  sat  thoughtfully  scanning  the  summons  and 
capias. 

"  What  you  link  ob  dis  ting,  'Liab  ?" 

"  It  is  part  of  a  plan  to  break  you  up,  Nimbus,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  Dar  ain't  no  sort  ob  doubt  'bout  that,  'Liab,"  an 
swered  Nimbus,  doggedly,  "  an'  dat  ole  Sheriff  Gleason's 
jes'  at  de  bottom  ob  it,  I  do  b'lieve.  But  I  ain't  ter 
be  druv  off  wid  law-suits  ner  Ku  Kluckers.  I'se  jest  a 
gvvine  ter  git  a  lawyer  an'  fight  it  out,  dat  I  am." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

A    PARTICULAR    TENANCY    LAPSES. 

THE  second  day  after  the  visit  of  the  sheriff,  Nimbus 
was  sitting  on  his  porch  after  his  day's  work  when  there 
was  a  call  at  his  gate. 

"  Who's  dar  ?"  he  cried,  starting  up  and  gazing  through 
an  opening  in  the  honeysuckle  which  clambered  up  to 
the  eaves  and  shut  in  the  porch  with  a  wall  of  fragrant 
green.  Seeing  one  of  his  white  neighbors,  he  went  out 
to  the  gate,  and  after  the  usual  salutations  was  greeted 
with  these  words  : 

"  I  hear  you's  gwine  to  sell  out    an'   leave,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  How  'd  ye  hear  dat  ?" 

"  Wai,  Sheriff  Gleason's  a'  been  tellin'  of  it  'round, 
and  ther  ain't  no  other  talk  'round  the  country  only  that." 

"What  'ud  I  sell  out  an'  leave  for?  Ain't  I  well 
'nough  off  whar  I  is  ?" 

"  The  sheriff  says  you  an'  'Liab  Hill  has  been  gittin* 
into  some  trouble  with  the  law,  and  that  the  Ku  Klux  has 


274  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

got  after  you  too,  so  that  if  you  don't  leave  you're  likely 
to  go  to  States  prison  or  have  a  whippin'  or  h  an  gin'  bee 
at  your  house  afore  you  know  it." 

"  T^s  let  'em  come,"  said  Nimbus,  angrily — "  E,u 
Kluckers  or  sheriffs,  it  don't  make  no  difference  which. 
I  reckon  it's  all  'bout  one  an'  de  same  ennyhow.  It's  a 
damn  shame  too.  Dar,  when  de  'lection  come  las'  time 
we  put  Marse  Gleason  in  agin,  kase  we  hadn't  nary  white 
man  in  de  county  dat  was  fitten  for  it  an'  could  give 
de  bond  ;  an'  of  co'se  dere  couldn't  no  culiif  d  man 
give  it.  An'  jes  kase  we  let  him  hev  it  an*  he's  feared 
we  mout  change  our  minds  now,  here  he  is  a  runnin' 
'roun'  ter  Ku  Klux  meetin's  an'  a  tryin'  ter  stir  up  de 
bery  ole  debble,  jes  ter  keep  us  cullu'd  people  from 
hevin'  our  rights.  He  can't  do  it  wid  me,  dat's  shore.  I 
hain't  done  numn'  an'  I  won't  run.  Ef  I'd  a-done  en- 
nythin'  I'd  run,  kase  I  don't  b'lieve  more'n  ennybody 
else  in  a  man's  stayin'  ter  let  de  law  git  a  holt  on  him  ; 
but  when  I  hain't  done  nary  ting,  ther  ain't  nobody 
ez  kin  drive  me  outen  my  tracks." 

"  But  the  Ku  Klux  mout  ////  ye  outen  'em,"  said  the 
other  with  a  weak  attempt  at  wit. 

"  Jes  let  'em  try  it  once  !"  said  Nimbus,  excitedly. 
"  I'se  purty  well  prepared  for  'em  now,  an'  atter  to- 
morrer  I'll  be  jes  ready  for  'em.  I'se  gwine  ter  Louis- 
burg  to-morrer,  an'  I  'How  that  atter  I  come  back  they 
won't  keer  ter  meddle  wid  Nimbus.  Tell  yer  what,  Mis 
ter  Dossey,  I  bought  dis  place  from  ole  Marse  Desmit, 
an'  paid  for  it,  ebbery  cent ;  an'  I  s\var  I  ain't  a  gwine  ter 
let  no  man  drive  me  offen  it — nary  foot.  An'  ef  de  Ku 
Klux  comes,  I's  jest  a  gwine  ter  kill  de  las'  one  I  gits  a 
chance  at.  Now,  you  min'  what  I  say,  Mister  Dossey, 
kase  I  means  ebbery  word  on't." 

The  white  man  cowered  before    the   other's  energy. 


A  PARTICULAR  TENANCY  LAPSES.  275 

He  was  of  that  class  who  were  once  denominated  "  poor 
whites."  The  war  taught  him  that  he  was  as  good  a 
man  to  stop  bullets  as  one  that  was  gentler  bred,  and 
during  that  struggle  which  the  non-slaveholders  fought 
at  the  beck  and  in  the  interest  of  the  slaveholding  aris 
tocracy,  he  had  learned  more  of  manhood  than  he  had 
ever  known  before.  In  the  old  days  his  father  had  been  an 
overseer  on  a  plantation  adjoining  Knapp-of-Reeds,  and 
as  a  boy  he  had  that  acquaintance  with  Nimbus  which 
every  white  boy  had  with  the  neighboring  colored  lads — 
they  hunted  and  fished  together  arid  were  as  near  cronies 
as  their  color  would  allow.  Since  the  war  he  had 
bought  a  place  and  by  steady  work  had  accumulated  some 
money.  His  plantation  was  on  the  river  and  abutted  on 
the  eastern  side  with  the  property  of  Nimbus.  After  a 
moment's  silence  he  said  : 

"  That  reminds  me  of  what  I  heard  to-day.  Your  old 
Marse  Potem  is  dead." 

"  Yer  don't  say,  now  !" 

"  Yes — died  yesterday  and  will  be  buried  to-morrow." 

"  La,  sakes  !  An'  how's  he  lef  ole  Missus  an'  de 
gals,  I  wonder  ?" 

"  Mighty  pore  I'm  afraid.  They  say  he's  been 
mighty  bad  off  lately,  an'  what  he's  got  won't  more'n 
half  pay  his  debts.  I  reckon  the  widder  an'  chillen'll 
hev  ter  '  homestead  it  '  the  rest  of  their  lives." 

"  Yer  don't  tink  so  ?  Wai,  I  do  declar',  hit's  too 
bad.  Ez  rich  ez  he  was,  an'  now  ter  come  down  ter  be 
ez  pore  ez  Nimbus — p'raps  poorer  !" 

"  It's  mighty  hard,  that's  sure.  It  was  all  along  of 
the  wah  that  left  everybody  pore  in  this  country,  just  as 
it  made  all  the  Yankees  rich  with  bonds  and  sech-like." 

"  Sho'  !  what's  de  use  ob  bein'  a  fool  ?  'Twan't  de 
wah  dat  made  Marse  Desmit  pore.  'Twuz  dat  ar  damn 


276  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

fool  business  ob  slavery  afo'  de  wah  dat  wound  him  up. 
Ef  he'd  never  been  a  '  speculator  '  an'  hadn't  tried  to 
grow  rich  a  raisin'  men  an'  wimmen  for  market  he'd  a 
been  richer'n  ever  he  was,  when  he  died." 

"Oh,  you're  mistaken  'bout  that,  Nimbus.  The  wah 
ruined  us  all." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  roared  Nimbus,  derisively.  "What 
de  wah  ebber  take  from  you,  Mister  Dossey,  only  jes  yer 
oberseer's  whip  ?  An'  dat  wur  de  berry  best  ting  ebber 
happen  ter  ye,  kase  it  sot  yer  to  wuk  an'  put  yer  in  de 
way  ob  makin'  money  for  yerself.  It  was  hard  on  sech 
ez  ole  Mahs'r,  dat's  a  fac,  even  ef  'twas  mostly  his  own 
fault  ;  but  it  was  worth  a  million  ter  sech  ez  you.  You 
'uns  gained  mo'  by  de  outcome  ob  de  wah,  right  away, 
dan  we  cullu'd  folks'll  ebber  git,  I'm  afeared." 

'  Yer  may  be  right,"  said  Dawsey,  laughing,  and  with 
a  touch  of  pride  in  his  tone.  "I've  done  pretty  well 
since  the  wah.  An'  that  brings  me  back  to  what  I  come 
over  for.  I  thought  I'd  ax,  if  ye  should  git  in  a  notion 
of  selling,  what  yer'd  take  fer  yer  place  here  ?" 

"  I  hain't  no  idea  uv  selling,  Mister  Dossey,  an' 
hain't  no  notion  uv  hevin'  any  'nuther.  You  an'  ebbery- 
body  else  mout  jest  ez  well  larn,  fust  ez  las',  dat  I  shan't 
never  sell  only  jes  ter  make  money.  Ef  I  put  a  price  on 
Red  Wing  it'll  be  a  big  one  ;  kase  it  ain't  done  growing 
yet,  an'  I  might  jest  ez  well  stay  h'yr  an'  grow  ez  ter  go 
West  an'  grow  up  wid  de  kentry,  ez  dat  fool  Berry 
Lawson's  allers  tellin'  about." 

"  Wai,  that's  all  right,  only  ef  you  ever  want  ter  sell, 
reasonable-like,  yer  know  who  to  come  to  for  your 
money.  Good-night  !" 

The  man  was  gathering  up  his  reins  when  Nimbus 
said  : 


THE  BEACON-LIGHT  OF  LOVE.  277 

"  When  did  yer  say  ole  Mahsr's  funeral  was  gwine  ter 
be?" 

'  To-morrow  afternoon  at  four  o'clock,  I  heerd." 

"  Thank  ye.  I'se  'bout  made  up  my  mind  ter  go  ter 
Louisburg  to-morrer,  stay  ter  dat  funeral,  an'  come  back 
nex'  day.  Seems  ter  me  ole  Mahs'r'd  be  kind  o'  glad 
ter  see  Nimbus  at  his  funeral,  fer  all  I  wan't  no  gret 
fav'rite  o'  his'n.  He  wa'nt  sich  a  bad  marster,  an'  atter 
I  bought  Red  Wing  he  use  ter  come  ober  ebbery  now  an' 
agin,  an'  gib  me  a  heap  ob  advice  'bout  nxin'  on  it  up. 
I  allus  listened  iit  him,  tu,  kase  ef  ennybody  ever 
knowed  nex'  do'  ter  ebberyting,  dat  ar  man  wuz  ole 
Marse  Potem.  I'se  sorry  he's  dead,  I  is  ;  an'  I'se 
mighty  sorry  for  ole  Missus  an'  de  gals.  An'  I'se 
a  gwine  ter  go  ter  dat  er  funeral  an'  see  him  laid  away,  ef 
it  do  take  anudder  day  outen  de  crap  ;  dat  I  is,  shore." 

"  An'  that  'minds  me,"  said  the  white  man,  "  that  I 
heard  at  the  same  time,  that  Walter  Greer,  who  used  to 
own  the  plantation  afore  yer  Marse  Desmit  bought  it, 
died  sometime  lately,  'way  out  in  Texas.  It's  quare, 
ain't  it,  that  they  should  both  go  nigh  about  the  same 
time.  Good-night." 

The  "poor-white"  neighbor  rode  away,  little  dream 
ing  that  the  colored  man  had  estimated  him  aright,  and 
accounted  him  only  an  emissary  of  his  foes,  nor  did  he 
comprehend  the  importance  of  the  information  he  had 
given. 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE    BEACON-LIGHT    OF     LOVE. 

MOLLIE  AINSLIE  had  been  absent  from  Red  Wing 
more  than  a  month.  It  was  nearly  midnight.  The  gib 
bous  moon  hung  over  the  western  tree-tops.  There  was 


278  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

not  a  sound  to  be  heard  in  the  little  hamlet,  but  strange 
ly  draped  figures  might  have  been  seen  moving  about  in 
the  open  glades  of  the  piney  woods  which  skirted  Red 
Wing  upon  the  west. 

One  after  another  they  stole  across  the  open  space  be 
tween  the  church  and  the  pine  grove,  in  its  rear,  until  a 
half-dozen  had  collected  in  its  shadow.  One  mounted 
on  another's  shoulders  and  tried  one  of  the  windows.  It 
yielded  to  his  touch  and  he  raised  it  without  difficulty. 
He  entered  and  another  after  him.  Then  two  or  three 
strange-looking  packages  were  handed  up  to  them  from 
the  outside.  There  was  a  whispered  discussion,  and 
then  the  parties  within  were  heard  moving  cautiously 
about  and  a  strong  benzoic  odor  came  from  the  upraised 
window.  Now  and  then  a  sharp  metallic  clang  was 
heard  from  within.  At  length  the  two  that  had  entered 
returned  to  the  window.  There  was  a  whispered  con 
sultation  with  those  upon  the  outside.  One  of  these 
crept  carefully  to  the  corner  and  gave  a  long  low  whistle. 
It  was  answered  after  a  moment's  interval,  first  from  one 
direction  and  then  from  another,  until  every  part  of  the 
little  hamlet  resounded  with  short  quick  answers.  Then 
the  man  at  the  corner  of  the  church  crept  back  and 
whispered, 

44  All  right  !" 

One  of  the  parties  inside  came  out  upon  the  window- 
sill  and  dropped  lightly  to  the  ground.  Th^  other 
mounted  upon  the  window-sill,  and  turned  round  upon 
his  knees  ;  there  was  a  gleam  of  light  within  the  building, 
a  flicker  and  a  hiss,  and  then  with  a  mighty  roar  the  flame 
swept  through  it  as  if  following  the  trail  of  some  com 
bustible.  Here  and  there  it  surged,  down  the  aisles  and 
over  the  desks,  white  and  clear,  showing  in  sharpest  sil 
houette  every  curve  and  angle  of  building  and  furniture. 


THE   BE  A  COX -LIGHT  OF  LOTE.  279 

The  group  at  the  window  stood  gazing  within  for  a  mo 
ment,  the  light  playing  on  their  faces  and  making  them 
seem  ghastly  and  pale  by  the  reflection  ;  then  they  crept 
hastily  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  wood — all  but  one, 
who,  clad  in  the  horribly  grotesque  habit  of  the  Ku  Klux 
Klan,  stood  at  the  detached  bell-tower,  and  when  the 
flames  burst  forth  from  the  windows  solemnly  tolled  the 
bell  until  driven  from  his  post  by  the  heat. 

One  had  hardly  time  to  think,  before  the  massive  struc 
ture  of  dried  pitch-pine  which  northern  charity  had 
erected  in  the  foolish  hope  of  benefiting  the  freedmen, 
where  the  young  teachers  had  labored  with  such  devo 
tion,  and  where  so  many  of  the  despised  race  had  laid 
the  foundation  of  a  knowledge  that  they  vainly  hoped 
might  lift  them  up  into  the  perfect  light  of  freedom, 
was  a  solid  spire  of  sheeted  flame. 

By  its  ghastly  glare,  in  various  parts  of  the  village 
were  to  be  seen  groups  and  single  armed  sentries,  clad  in 
black  gowns  which  fell  to  their  very  feet,  spire-pointed 
caps,  grotesquely  marked  and  reaching  far  above  the 
head,  while  from  the  base  a  flowing  masque  depended 
over  the  face  and  fell  down  upon  the  shoulders,  hid 
ing  all  the  outlines  of  the  figure. 

The  little  village  was  taken  completely  by  surprise.  It 
had  been  agreed  that  the  ringing  of  the  church  bell 
should  be  the  signal  for  assembling  at  the  church  with 
such  arms  as  they  had  to  resist  the  Ku  Klux.  It  had 
not  been  thought  that  the  danger  would  be  imminent 
until  about  the  expiration  of  the  time  named  in  the  no 
tice  ;  so  that  the  watch  which  had  been  determined  upon 
had  not  been  strictly  kept,  and  on  this  night  had  been 
especially  lax  on  one  of  the  roads  leading  into  the 
little  hamlet. 

At  the  first  stroke  of  the  bell  all  the  villagers  were 


280  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

awake,  and  from  half-opened  doors  and  windows  they 
took  in  the  scene  which  the  light  of  the  moon  and 
the  glare  of  the  crackling  fire  revealed.  Then  dusky- 
skinned  forms  stole  hastily  away  into  the  shadows  of  the 
houses  and  fences,  and  through  the  rank-growing  com 
of  the  little  truck-patches,  to  the  woods  and  fields 
in  the  rear.  There  were  some  who  since  the  warn 
ing  had  not  slept  at  home  at  all,  but  had  occupied  little 
leafy  shelters  in  the  bush  and  half-hid  burrows  on  the 
hillside.  On  the  eyes  of  all  these  gleamed  the  blaze  of 
the  burning  church,  and  each  one  felt,  as  he  had  never 
realized  before,  the  strength  of  that  mysterious  band  which 
was  just  putting  forth  its  power  to  overturn  and  nullify  a 
system  of  laws  that  sought  to  clothe  an  inferior  and 
servile  race  with  the  rights  and  privileges  theretofore  ex 
ercised  solely  by  the  dominant  one. 

Among  those  who  looked  upon  this  scene  was  Eliab 
Hill.  Sitting  upon  his  bench  he  gazed  through  the  low 
window  of  his  little  cottage,  the  flame  lighting  up  his  pale 
face  and  his  eyes  distended  with  terror.  His  clasped 
hands  rested  on  the  window-sill  and  his  upturned  eyes 
evidently  sought  for  strength  from  heaven  to  enable  him 
manfully  to  perform  the  part  he  had  declared  his  deter 
mination  to  enact.  What  he  saw  was  this  : 

A  company  of  masked  men  seemed  to  spring  out  of  the 
ground  around  the  house  of  Nimbus,  and,  at  a  whistle 
from  one  of  their  number,  began  swiftly  to  close  in  upon 
it.  There  was  a  quick  rush  and  the  door  was  burst 
open.  There  were  screams  and  blows,  angry  words,  and 
protestations  within.  After  a  moment  a  light  shot  up 
and  died  quickly  out  again — one  of  the  party  had  struck 
a  match.  Eliab  heard  the  men  cursing  Lugena,  and 
ordering  her  to  make  up  a  light  on  the  hearth.  Then 
there  were  more  blows,  and  the  light  shone  upon  the 


THE   BEACON-LIGHT   OF  LOVE.  281 

window.  There  were  rough  inquiries  for  the  owner,  and 
Eliab  thanked  God  'that  his  faithful  friend  was  far  away 
from  the  danger  and  devastation  of  that  night.  He 
wondered,  dully,  what  would  be  his  thought  when  he 
should  return  on  the  morrow,  and  mark  the  destruction 
wrought  in  his  absence,  and  tried  to  paint  his  rage. 

While  he  thought  of  these  things  the  neighboring  house 
was  ransacked  from  top  to  bottom.  He  heard  the 
men  cursing  because  their  search  was  fruitless.  They 
brought  out  the  wife,  Lugena,  and  two  of  her  children,  and 
coaxed  and  threatened  them  without  avail.  A  few  blows 
were  struck,  but  the  wife  and  children  stoutly  maintained 
that  the  husband  and  father  was  absent,  attending  his  old 
master's  funeral,  at  Louisburg.  The  yellow  light  of  the 
blazing  church  shone  on  the  house,  and  made  fantastic 
shadows  all  around.  The  lurid  glare  lighted  up  their 
faces  and  pictured  their  terror.  They  were  almost  with 
out  clothing.  Eliab  noticed  that  the  hand  that  clasped 
Lugena's  black  arm  below  the  band  of  the  chemise  was 
white  and  delicate. 

The  wife  and  children  were  crying  and  moaning  in 
terror  and  pain.  Oaths  and  blows  were  intermingled  with 
questions  in  disguised  voices,  and  gasping  broken  an 
swers.  Blood  was  running  down  the  face  of  the  wife. 
The  younger  children  were  screaming  in  the  house. 
Children  and  women  were  shrieking  in  every  direction  as 
they  fled  to  the  shelter  of  the  surrounding  woods.  The 
flame  roared  and  crackled  as  it  licked  the  resin  from  the 
pine  logs  of  the  church  and  leaped  aloft.  It  shone  upon 
the  glittering  needles  of  the  surrounding  pines,  lighted 
up  the  ripening  tobacco  on  the  hillside,  sparkled  in  the 
dewy  leaves  of  the  honeysuckle  which  clambered  over 
the  freedman's  house  and  hid  the  staring  moon  with  its 
columns  of  black  smoke. 


2  S  2  B  RICKS   I VI TIIO  UT  S  TRA  1 1 '. 

The  search  for  Nimbus  proving  unavailing — they 
scarcely  seemed  to  expect  to  find  him — they  began  to  in 
quire  of  the  terror-stricken  woman  the  whereabouts  of 
his  friend. 

"  Where  is  'Liab  Hill  ?"  asked  the  man  who  held  her 
arm. 

11  What  have  you  done  with  that  snivelling  hop-toad 
minister?"  queried  another. 

"  Speak,  damn  you  !  and  see  that  you  tell  the  truth," 
said  a  third,  as  he  struck  her  over  the  bare  shoulders 
with  a  stick. 

"  Oh  !  don't  !  don't  !"  shrieked  the  poor  woman  as 
she  writhed  in  agony.  '*  I'll  tell  !  I  will,  gentlemens— 
I  will — I  will  !  Oh,  my  God  !  don't  !  don  t !"  she  cried, 
as  she  leaped  wildly  about,  tearing  the  one  garment 
away  in  her  efforts  to  avoid  the  blows  which  fell  thick 
and  fast  on  every  part  of  her  person,  now  fully  exposed 
in  the  bright  light. 

"  Speak,  then  !"  said  the  man  who  held  the  goad. 
"  Out  with  it  !  Tell  where  you've  hid  him  !" 

"  He  ain't — here,  gentlemen  !  He — he — don't — stay 
here  no  mo'." 

Again  the  blows  came  thick  and  fast.  She  fell  upon 
the  ground  and  rolled  in  the  dust  to  avoid  them.  Her 
round  black  limbs  glistened  in  the  yellow  light  as  she 
writhed  from  side  to  side. 

"  Here  I  am— here  !"  came  a  wild,  shrill  shriek  from 
Eliab's  cabin. 

Casting  a  glance  towards  it,  one  of  the  men  saw  a 
blanched  and  pallid  face  pressed  against  the  window 
and  lighted  by  the  blazing  church — the  face  of  him  who 
was  wont  to  minister  there  to  the  people  who  did  not 
know  their  own  "  best  friends  !" 


THE  BEACON-LIGHT  OF  LOVE.  283 

"There  he  is!" — "Bring  the  damn  rascal  out!" — 
"  He's  the  one  we  want,  anyhow  !" 

These  and  numerous  other  shouts  of  similar  char 
acter,  beat  upon  the  ears  of  the  terrified  watcher,  as  the 
crowd  of  masked  marauders  rushed  towards  the  little 
cabin  which  had  been  his  home  ever  since  Red  Wing  had 
passed  into  the  possession  of  its  present  owner.  It  was 
the  first  building  erected  under  the  new  proprietorship, 
and  was  substantially  built  of  pine  logs.  The  one  low 
window  and  the  door  in  front  were  the  only  openings  cut 
through  the  solidly-framed  logs.  The  door  was  fastened 
with  a  heavy  wooden  bar  which  reached  across  the  entire 
shutter  and  was  held  in  place  by  strong  iron  staples 
driven  into  the  heavy  door-posts.  Above,  it  was  strongly 
ceiled,  but  under  the  eaves  were  large  openings  made  by 
the  thick  poles  which  had  been  used  for  rafters.  If  the 
owner  had  been  capable  of  defense  he  could  hardly  have 
had  a  castle  better  adapted  for  a  desperate  and  success 
ful  struggle  than  this. 

Eliab  Hill  knew  this,  and  for  a  moment  his  face  flushed 
as  he  saw  the  crowd  rush  towards  him,  with  the  vain 
wish  that  he  might  fight  for  his  life  and  for  his  race. 
He  had  fully  made  up  his  mind  to  die  at  his  post. 
He  was  not  a  brave  man  in  one  sense  of  the  word.  A 
cripple  never  is.  Compelled  to  acknowledge  the  physi 
cal  superiority  of  others,  year  after  year,  he  comes  at 
length  to  regard  his  own  inferiority  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  never  thinks  of  any  movement  which 
partakes  of  the  aggressive.  Eliab  Hill  had  procured 
the  strong  bar  and  heavy  staples  for  his  door  when 
first  warned  by  the  Klan,  but  he  had  never  concocted 
any  scheme  of  defense.  He  thought  vaguely,  as  he  saw 
them  coming  towards  him  in  the  bright  moonlight  and 
in  the  brighter  glow  of  the  burning  sanctuary,  that  with 


284  jtftrcxs  iviTHorr 

a  good  repeating  arm  he  might  not  only  sell  his  life 
dearly,  but  even  repel  the  attack.  It  would  be  a  proud 
thing  if  he  might  do  so.  He  was  sorry  he  had  not 
thought  of  it  before.  He  remembered  .the  Spencer 
carbine  which  he  had  given  a  fc\v  days  before  to  Berry 
Lawson  to  clean  and  repair,  and  to  obtain  cartridges  of 
the  proper  calibre,  in  order  that  it  might  be  used  by 
some  one  in  the  defense  of  Red  Wing.  Berry  had  not 
yet  returned.  He  had  never  thought  of  using  it  himself, 
until  that  moment  when  he  saw  his  enemies  advancing 
upon  him  with  wild  cries,  and  heard  the  roar  of  the 
flaming  church.  He  was  not  a  hero.  On  the  contrary, 
he  believed  himself  a  coward. 

He  was  brave  enough  in  suffering,  but  his  courage  was 
like  that  of  a  woman.  He  was  able  and  willing  to  en 
dure  the  most  terrible  evils,  but  he  did  not  think  of  doing 
brave  things  or  achieving  great  acts.  His  courage  was 
not  aggressive.  He  could  be  killed,  but  did  not  think 
of  killing.  Not  that  he  was  averse  to  taking  life  in 
self-defense,  but  he  had  been  so  long  the  creature  of 
another's  will  in  the  matter  of  locomotion  that  it  did  not 
occur  to  him  to  do  otherwise  than  say  :  "  Do  with  me 
as  thou  wilt.  I  am  bound  hand  and  foot.  I  cannot 
fight,  but  I  can  die." 

He  shrank  from  acute  pain  with  that  peculiar  terror 
which  the  confirmed  invalid  always  exhibits,  perhaps 
because  he  realizes  its  horror  more  than  those  who  are 
usually  exempt  from  its  pangs. 

As  he  pressed  his  face  close  to  the  flame-lighted  pane, 
and  watched  the  group  of  grotesquely  disguised  men 
rushing  toward  his  door,  his  eyes  were  full  of  wild  ter 
ror  and  his  face  twitched,  while  his  lips  trembled  and 
grew  pale  under  the  dark  mustache.  There  was  a  rush 
against  the  door,  but  it  did  pot  yield.  Another  and 


THE  BEACON-LIGHT  OF  LOVE.  285 

another  ;  but  the  heavy  bar  and  strong  staples  held  it 
fast.  Then  his  name  was  called,  but  he  did  not  answer. 
Drawing  his  head  quickly  from  the  window,  he  closed  the 
heavy  wooden  shutter,  which  fitted  closely  into  the  frame 
on  the  inside,  and  fastened  it  with  a  bar  like  that  upon  the 
door.  Hardly  had  he  done  so  when  a  blow  shattered  the 
window.  Something  was  thrust  in  and  passed  around  the 
opening,  trying  here  and  there  to  force  open  the  shutter, 
but  in  vain.  Then  it  was  pressed  against  the  bottom, 
just  where  the  shutter  rested  on  the  window-sill.  There 
was  an  instant's  silence  save  that  Eliab  Hill  heard  a  click 
which  he  thought  was  caused  by  the  cocking  of  a  revolver, 
and  threw  himself  quickly  down  upon  his  bench.  There 
was  a  sharp  explosion,  a  jarring  crash  as  the  ball  tore 
through  the  woodwork,  and  hurtling  across  the  room 
buried  itself  in  the  opposite  wall.  Then  there  were 
several  shots  fired  at  the  door.  One  man  found  a  little 
hole  in  the  chinking,  between  two  of  the  logs,  and 
putting  his  revolver  through,  fired  again  and  again, 
sending  spits  of  hot  flame  and  sharp  spiteful  reverbera 
tions  through  the  darkness  of  the  cabin. 

Eliab  Hill  watched  all  this  with  fixed,  staring  eyes  and 
teeth  set,  but  did  not  move  or  speak.  He  scrambled  off  the 
bench,  and  crawled,  in  his  queer  tri-pedal  fashion,  to  the 
cot,  crept  into  it,  and  with  hands  clasped,  sat  bolt  upright 
on  the  pillow.  He  set  his  back  against  the  wall,  and, 
facing  the  door,  waited  for  the  end.  He  wished  that 
some  of  the  bullets  that  were  fired  might  pierce  his  heart. 
He  even  prayed  that  his  doom  might  come  sharp  and 
swift — that  he  might  be  saved  from  torture — might  be 
spared  the  lash.  He  only  feared  lest  his  manhood  should 
fail  him  in  the  presence  of  impending  suffering. 

There  came  a  rush  against  the  door  with  some  heavy 
timber.  He  guessed  that  it  was  the  log  from  the  hitch- 


286  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

ing  rack  in  front  of  Nimbus'  house.  But  the  strong  bar 
did  not  yield.  They  called  out  his  name  again,  and  as 
sured  him  that  if  he  did  not  undo  the  door  they  would 
fire  the  house.  A  strange  look  of  relief,  even  of  joy, 
passed  over  his  face  as  he  heard  this  declaration.  He 
clasped  his  hands  across  his  breast  as  he  sat  upon  the 
bed,  and  his  lips  moved  in  prayer.  He  was  not  afraid 
to  die,  but  he  was  afraid  that  he  might  not  be  strong 
enough  to  endure  all  the  pain  that  might  be  caused  by 
torture,  without  betraying  his  suffering  or  debasing  his 
manhood.  He  felt  very  weak  and  was  glad  to  know  that 
fire  and  smoke  would  hide  his  groans  and  tears. 

While  he  waited  for  the  hissing  of  the  flame  the  blows 
of  an  axe  resounded  on  the  door.  It  was  wielded  by 
stalwart  hands,  and  ere  long  the  glare  from  without  shone 
through  the  double  planking. 

11  Hello,  'Liab — 'Liab  Hill  !"  cried  a  voice  at  the  open 
ing  which  seemed  to  the  quiet  listener  within  strangely 
like  that  of  Sheriff  Gleason.  "  Damn  me,  boys,  if  I  don't 
believe  you've  killed  the  nigger,  shooting  in  theie.  Hadn't 
we  better  just  set  the  cabin  afire  and  let  it  burn  ?" 

"  Put  in  your  hand  and  see  if  you  can't  lift  the  bar," 
said  another.  "  I'd  like  to  know  whether  the  scoundrel 
is  dead  or  alive.  Besides  that,  I  don't  fancy  this  burn 
ing  houses.  I  don't  object  to  hanging  a  sassy  nigger,  or 
anything  of  that  kind,  but  burning  a  house  is  a  different 
matter.  That's  almost  too  mean  for  a  white  man  to 
do.  It's  kind  of  a  nigger  business,  to  my  notion." 

"  For  instance  !"  said  another,  with  a  laugh,  point 
ing  to  the  blazing  church. 

"  Oh,  damn  it  !"  said  the  former,  "  that's  another 
thing.  A  damn  nigger  school-house  ain't  of  no  more 
account  than  a  brush-pile,  anyhow." 

A  hand  was  thrust  through  the  opening  and  the  bar 


THE   BEACON-LIGHT  OF  LOVE.  287 

lifted  from  one  socket  and  drawn  out  of  the  other.  Then 
the  door  flew  open  and  a  half  dozen  men  rushed  into  the 
room.  The  foremost  fell  over  the  rolling  chair  which 
had  been  left  near  the  door,  and  the  others  in  turn 
fell  over  him. 

"  What  the  hell  !"  cried  one.  "  Here,  bring  the  light 
here.  What  is  this  thing  anyhow  ?" 

The  light  was  brought,  and  the  voice  continued  : 
"  Damned  if  it  ain't  the  critter's  go-cart.  Here  kick 
the  damn  thing  out — smash  it  up  !  Such  things  ain't 
made  for  niggers  to  ride  on,  anyhow.  He  won't  need 
it  any  more — not  after  we  have  got  through  with  him. 

"  That  he  won't  !"  said  another,  as  the  invalid's 
chair  which  had  first  given  Eliab  Hill  power  to  move 
himself  about  was  kicked  out  of  the  door  and  broken 
into  pieces  with  blows  of  the  axe. 

Eliab  Hill  felt  as  if  a  part  of  his  life  was  already  de 
stroyed.  He  groaned  for  the  fate  of  this  inseparable 
companion  of  all  his  independent  existence.  It  had  grown 
dearer  to  him  than  he  knew.  It  hurt  him,  even  then,  to 
hear  the  coarse,  grim  jests  which  were  uttered  as  its 
finely-wrought  frame  cracked  beneath  the  blows  of  the 
axe,  and  its  luxurious  belongings  were  rent  and  torn  by 
the  hands  that  would  soon  rend  and  tear  its  owner.  He 
had  corne  to  look  upon  the  insensate  machine  with  a  pas 
sionate  regard.  While  it  seemed  like  tearing  away  his 
limbs  to  take  it  from  him,  yet  there  was  a  feeling  of  sep 
arate  animate  existence  about  it  which  one  never  feels 
towards  his  own  members.  He  had  petted  and  polished 
and  cared  for  this  strong,  pretty,  and  easily  worked  com 
bination  of  levers  and  springs  and  wheels  that  had 
served  him  so  faithfully,  until  it  seemed  to  his  fancy  like 
an  old  and  valued  friend. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE  "  BEST  FRIENDS"  REVEAL  THEMSELVES. 

"BRING  alight!"  shouted  the  leader.  One  of  the 
men  rushed  into  the  house  of  Nimbus,  and  snatched  a 
flaming  brand  from  the  hearth.  As  he  ran  with  it  out  of 
the  front  door,  he  did  not  see  a  giant  form  which  leaped 
from  the  waving  corn  and  sprang  into  the  back  door. 
The  black  foot  was  bare  and  made  no  sound  as  it  fell 
upon  the  threshold.  He  did  not  see  the  black,  furious 
face  or  the  right  arm,  bared  above  the  elbow,  which 
snatched  a  saber  from  the  top  of  a  cupboard.  He  did  not 
see  the  glaring,  murderous  eyes  that  peered  through  the 
vine-leaves  as  he  rushed,  with  his  flaming  brand  aloft,  out 
of  the  house  to  the  hut  of  Eliab.  As  he  reached  the  door 
the  light  fell  upon  the  preacher,  who  sat  upon  the  bed. 
The  fear  of  death  had  passed  away — even  the  fear  of 
suffering  was  gone.  His  lips  moved  in  prayer,  the  for 
giving  words  mingling  with  the  curses  of  his  assailants  : 
"  O  God,  my  help  and  my  shield  !"  ("  Here  he  is,  God 
damn  ////;//")  "Forgive  them,  Father —  ("  I've  got 
Aim  f")  '  They  know  not a — h  !" 

A  long,  shrill  shriek — the  voice  of  a  man  overborne  by 
mortal  agony — sounded  above  the  clamor  of  curses,  and 
above  the  roar  of  the  blazing  church.  There  was  a  fall 
upon  the  cabin  floor — the  grating  sound  of  a  body  swiftly 
drawn  along  its  surface — and  one  of  the  masked  maraud 
ers  rushed  out  dragging  by  the  foot  the  preacher  of  the 
Gospel  of  Peace.  The  withered  leg  was  straightened. 
The  weakened  sinews  were  torn  asunder,  and  as  his  cap 
tor  dragged  him  out  into  the  light  and  flung  the  burden 

288 


"BEST  FRIENDS"  REVEAL   THEMSELVES.     289 

away,  the  limb  dropped,  lax  and  nerveless,  to  the  ground. 
Then  there  were  blows  and  kicks  and  curses  from  the 
crowd,  which  rushed  upon  him.  In  the  midst,  one  held 
aloft  a  blazing  brand.  Groans  and  fragments  of  prayer 
came  up  through  the  din.* 

All  at  once  there  wa^  a  roar  as  of  a  desert  lion  burst 
ing  from  its  lair.  They  looked  and  saw  a  huge  black 
form  leap  from  the  porch  of  the  other  house  and  bound 
toward  them.  He  was  on  them  in  a  minute.  There  was 
the  swish  of  a  saber  swung  by  a  practiced  hand,  and  the 
high-peaked  mask  of  the  leader  bent  over  the  hissing 
blade,  and  was  stripped  away,  leaving  a  pale,  affrighted 
face  glaring  stupidly  at  the  ebon  angel  of  wrath  in  the 
Juried  fire-light.  A  fearful  oath  came  through  the  white, 
strong  teeth,  which  showed  hard -set  below  the  moustache. 
Again  the  saber  whistled  round  the  head  of  the  aven 
ger.  There  was  a  shriek  of  mortal  agony,  and  one  of 
the  masqueraders  fell.  The  others  shrunk  back.  One 
fired  a  shot.  The  man  with  the  torch  stood  for  the 
moment  as  though  transfixed,  with  the  glaring  light  still 
held  aloft.  Then,  with  his  revolver,  he  aimed  a  close, 
sure  shot  at  the  dusky  giant  whom  he  watched. 

Suddenly  he  saw  a  woman's  naked  figure,  that  seemed 
to  rise  from  the  ground.  There  was  a  gleam  of  steel, 
and  then  down  through  mask  and  flesh  and  bone  crashed 
the  axe  which  had  fallen  by  the  door  step,  and  the  blood 
spurted  upon  Lugena's  unclothed  form  and  into  the  face 
of  the  prostrate  Eliab,  as  the  holder  of  the  torch  fell 

*  Those  who  are  interested  in  such  matters  may  find  some  curi 
ously  exact  parallels  of  the  characters  and  incidents  of  this  chapter 
testified  to  under  oath  in  the  "  Report  of  the  Committee  on  Ku- 
Klux  Outrages  in  the  Southern  States."  The  facts  are  of  no 
special  interest,  however,  except  as  illustrations  of  the  underlying 
spirit  and  cause  of  this  strange  epidemic  of  violence. 


290  BRICK'S   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

beside  him.  Then  the  others  gave  way,  and  the  two 
black  forms  pursued.  There  were  some  wild  shots  fired 
back,  as  they  fled  toward  the  wood  beyond  the  road. 

Then  from  its  depths  came  a  flash  and  a  roar.  A  ball 
went  shrieking  by  them  and  flew  away  into  the  dark 
ness  beyond.  Another,  and  another  and  another  !  It 
was  not  the  sharp,  short  crack  of  (he  revolver,  but  the 
fierce  angry  challenge  of  the  rifle.  They  had  heard  it 
before  upon  the  battle-field,  and  terror  lent  them  wings 
as  they  fled.  The  hurtling  missiles  flew  here  and  there, 
wherever  a  masked  form  could  be  seen,  and  pursued 
their  fleeing  shadows  into  the  wood,  glancing  from  tree 
to  tree,  cutting  through  spine  and  branch  and  splintering 
bole,  until  the  last  echo  of  their  footsteps  had  died 
away. 

Then  all  was  still,  except  the  roar  of  the  burning 
church  and  the  solemn  soughing  of  the  pines,  as  the  ris 
ing  west  wind  rustled  their  branches. 

Nimbus  and  his  wife  stood  listening  in  the  shade  of  a 
low  oak,  between  the  scene  of  conflict  and  the  highway. 
No  sound  of  the  flying  enemy  could  be  heard. 

"  Nimbus  !  Oh*  Nimbus  !"  the  words  came  in  a  strained, 
low  whisper  from  the  unclad  figure  at  his  side. 

11  Wai,  'Gena?" 

"  Is  you  hurt,  honey  ?" 

"  Nary  bit.  How  should  I  be  ?  They  run  away  ez 
quick  ez  I  come.  Did  they  'buse  you,  'Gena  ?" 

"  None  of  enny  'count,"  she  answered,  cautiously,  for 
fear  of  raising  his  anger  to  a  point  beyond  control — 
"  only  jest  a  tryin'  ter  make  me  tell  whar  you  was — 
you  an'  'Liab." 

"  Whar's  yer  clo'es,  honey  ?" 

"In  de  house,  dar,  only  what  I  tore,  getting  away 
from  'em." 


•  1BES  T  FRIENDS ' '  RE  VEAL   THEMSEL  VES.    29 1 

"An'  de  chillen?" 

11  Dey's  run  out  an'  hid  somewheres.  Dey  scattered 
like  young  pa'tridges." 

11  Dey's  been  hunted  like  'em  too,  eh  ?" 

He  lays  his  hand  in  caution  upon  the  bare  shoulder 
next  him,  and  they  both  crouch  closer  in  the  shadow  and 
listen.  All  is  quiet,  except  groans  and  stertorous  breath 
ing  near  the  cabin. 

"  It's  one  of  them  damned  villains.  Let  me  settle  him  ! ' ' 
said  Nimbus. 

"  Don't,  dont  !"  cried  Lugena,  as  she  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck.  "  Please  don't,  honey  !" 

"  P'raps  it's  Bre'er  'Liab  !  Let  me  go  !"  he  said, 
hastily. 

Cautiously  they  started  back  through  the  strip  of  yel 
low  light  which  lay  between  them  and  the  cabin  of  Eliab. 
They  could  not  believe  that  their  persecutors  were  in 
deed  gone.  Nimbus's  hand  still  clutched  the  saber,  and 
Lugena  had  picked  up  the  axe  which  she  had  dropped. 

The  groaning  came  indeed  from  Eliab.  He  had  par 
tially  recovered  from  the  unconsciousness  which  had 
come  over  him  while  undergoing  torture,  and  with  re 
turning  animation  had  come  the  sense  of  acute  suffering 
from  the  injuries  he  had  received. 

"  Bre'er  'Liab  !"  whispered  Nimbus,  bending  over 
him. 

"  Is  that  you,  Nimbus  ?"  asked  the  stricken  man  in 
surprise.  "  How  do  you  come  to  be  here  ?" 

"  Jes  tuk  it  inter  my  head  ter  come  home  atter  de 
funeril,  an'  done  got  here  jest  in  time  ter  take  a  han'  in 
what  was  gwine  on." 

"  Is  the  church  all  burned  down,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  De  ruf  hez  all  fell  in.  De  sides  '11  burn  a  long 
while  yet.  Dey'se  logs,  yer  know." 


292  BRICKS    WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Did  'Gena  get  away,  Nimbus  ?" 

"  Here  I  is,  Bre'er  'Liab." 

"  Is  anybody  hurt  ?" 

14  Not  ez  we  knows  on,  'cept  two  dat's  lyin'  on  de 
groun'  right  h'yer  by  ye,"  said  Nimbus. 

"  Dead  ?"  asked  'Liab,  with  a  shudder.  He  tried  to 
raise  himself  up  but  sank  back  with  a  groan. 

"  Oh,  Bre'er  'Liab  !  Bre'er  'Liab  !"  cried  Nimbus, 
his  distress  overcoming  his  fear,  "  is  you  hurt  bad  ? 
My  God  !"  he  continued,  as  he  raised  his  friend's  head 
and  saw  that  he  had  lapsed  again  into  insensibility, 
"  my  God  !  'Gena,  he's  dead  !" 

He  withdrew  the  hand  he  had  placed  under  the 
shoulders  of  the  prostrate  man.  It  was  covered  with 
blood. 

"  Sh — sh  !  You  heardat,  Nimbus  ?"  asked  Lugena,  in 
a  choked  whisper,  as  she  started  up  and  peered  toward 
the  road.  "  Oh,  Nimbus,  run  !  run  !  Do,  honey,  do  ! 
Dar  dey  comes  !  Dey'll  kill  you,  shore  !" 

She  caught  her  husband  by  the  arm,  and  endeavored 
to  drag  him  into  the  shadow  of  the  cabin. 

"  I  can't  leave  Bre'er  'Liab,"  said  Nimbus,  doggedly. 
1  Yer  can't  help  him.     Yer'll  jes  stay  an'   be  killed 
ye'self  !     Dar  now,  listen  at  dat  !"   cried  the  trembling 
woman. 

The  sound  to  which  she  referred  was  that  of  hurried 
footfalls  in  the  road  beyond  their  house.  Nimbus  heard 
it,  and  stooping  over  his  insensible  friend,  raised  him  in 
his  arms  and  dashed  around  the  cabin  into  the  rank- 
growing  corn  beyond.  His  wife  followed  for  a  few  steps, 
still  carrying  the  axe.  Then  she  turned  and  peered 
through  the  corn-rows,  determined  to  cover  her  husband's 
retreat  should  danger  threaten  him  from  that  direction. 
After  waiting  awhile  and  hearing  nothing  more,  she  con- 


"BEST  FRIENDS"  RE  TEAL   THEMSELVES.    293 

eluded  to  go  to  the  house,  get  some  clothing,  and  en 
deavor  to  rally  her  scattered  brood. 

Stealing  softly  up  to  the  back  door — the  fire  had  died 
out  upon  the  hearth — she  entered  cautiously,  and  after 
glancing  through  the  shaded  porch  began  to  dress.  She 
had  donned  her  clothing  and  taken  up  her  shoes  prepara 
tory  to  going  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  cornfield,  when  she 
thought  she  heard  a  stealthy  footstep  on  the  porch.  Her 
heart  stood  still  with  terror.  She  listened  breathlessly. 
It  came  again.  There  was  no  doubt  of  it  now — a  slow, 
stealthy  step  !  A  board  creaked,  and  then  all  was  still. 
Again  !  Thank  God  it  was  a  bare  foot  !  Her  heart  took 
hope.  She  stole  to  the  open  door  and  peeped  out.  There, 
in  the  half  shadow  of  the  flame-lit  porch,  she  saw  Berry 
Lawson  stealing  toward  her.  She  almost  screamed  for 
joy.  Stepping  into  the  doorway  she  whispered, 

"  Berry  !" 

"  Is  dat  you,  'Gena?"  whispered  that  worthy,  tiptoe 
ing  hastily  forward  and  stepping  into  the  shadow  within 
the  room.  "  How'd  yer  manage  ter  live  t'rough  dis  yer 
night,  'Gena  ?  An'  whar's  Nimbus  an'  de  chillen  ?" 

These  questions  being  hastily  answered,  Lugena  began 
to  inquire  in  regard  to  his  presence  there. 

"  Whar  I  come  from  ?  Jes  got  back  from  Bre'er 
Rufe's  house.  Druv  at  night  jes  ter  save  de  mornin'  ter 
walk  back  in.  Lef  Sally  an'  de  chillen  dar  all  right. 
When  I  come  putty  nigh  ter  Red  Wing  I  sees  de  light 
o'  de  fire,  an'  presently  I  sez  to  myself,  sez  I,  '  Berry, 
dat  ain't  no  common  fire,  now.  Ain't  many  houses  in 
the  kentry  roun'  make  sech  a  fire  ez  dat.  Dat  mus'  be 
de  church,  Berry.'  Den  I  members  'bout  de  Ku 
Kluckers,  an'  I  sez  ter  myself  agin,  sez  I,  '  Berry,  dem 
rascals  hez  come  ter  Red  Wing  an'  is  raisin'  de  debble 
dar  now,  jes  dere  own  way.'  Den  I  runs  de  mule  and  de 


294  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRA  II'. 

carryall  inter  de  woods,  'bout  a  mile  down  de  road,  an' 
I  takes  out  Bre'er  'Liab'sgun,  dat  I'd  borrered  fer  com 
pany,  yer  know,  an'  bed  got  some  cattridges  fer,  ober 
at  Lewyburg,  an'  I  comes  on  ter  take  a  ban'  in — ef  dar 
wa'n't  no  danger,  yer  know,  honey. 

14  When  I  gits  ober  in  de  woods,  dar,  I  heah  de  wust 
sort  ob  hullabaloo  ober  h'yer  'bout  whar  Bre'er  'Liab's 
house  was  —  hollerin'  an'  screamin'  an'  cussin'  an' 
fightin'.  I  couldn't  make  it  all  out,  but  I  'llowed  dat 
Nimbus  wuz  a-habbin'  a  hell  ob  a  time,  an'  ef  I  wuz 
gwine  ter  do  anyting,  dat  wuz  about  de  right  time  fer 
me  ter  put  in.  So  I  rested  dis  yer  ole  gal,"  patting  the 
carbine  in  bis  hand,  "  agin  a  tree  an'  jes  slung  a  bullet 
squar  ober  dere  heads.  Ye  see,  I  dassent  shoot  too 
low,  fer  fear  ob  hurtin'  some  of  my  fren's.  'D'ye 
beah  dat  shot,  'Gena  ?  Lord  !  how  de  ole  gal  did 
holler.  Tears  like  I  nebberheara  cannon  sound  so  big. 
De  Ku  Kluckers  'peared  ter  hear  it  too,  fer  dey  corned 
squar  outen  h'yer  inter  de  big  road.  Den  I  opened  up 
an'  let  her  bark  at  'em  ez  long  ez  I  could  see  a  shadder 
ter  pull  trigger  on.  Wonder  ef  I  hurt  enny  on  'em. 
D'yer  know,  'Gena,  wuz  enny  on  'em  killed  ?" 

"  Dar's  two  on  'em  alayin*  out  dar  by  'Liab's  house," 
said  the  woman. 

'  Yer  don't  say  so  !"  said  Berry  with  a  start.  "  La, 
sakes  !  what's  dat?"  he  continued,  breathlessly,  as  a 
strange  sound  was  heard  in  the  direction  indicated. 
They  stole  out  upon  the  porch,  and  as  they  peered 
through  the  clustering  wine-leaves  a  ghastly  spectacle 
presented  itself  to  their  eyes. 

One  of  the  prostrate  forms  had  risen  and  was  groping 
around  on  its  hands  and  knees,  uttering  a  strange  moan 
ing  sound.  Presently  it  staggered  to  its  feet,  and  after 
some  vain  efforts  seized  the  mask,  the  long  flowing  cape 


"BEST  FRIENDS"  REVEAL   THEMSELVES.    295 

attached  to  which  fell  down  upon  the  shoulders,  and  tore 
it  away.  The  pale,  distorted  face  with  a  bloody  channel 
down  the  middle  was  turned  inquiringly  this  way  and 
that.  The  man  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead  as  if  to 
collect  his  thoughts.  Then  he  tried  to  utter  a  cry  ;  the 
jaw  moved,  but  only  unintelligible  sounds  were  heard. 

Lugena  heard  the  click  of  the  gun-lock,  and  turning, 
laid  her  hand  on  Berry,  as  she  said, 

"  Don't  shoot  !     'Tain't  no  use  !" 

"  Yer  right,  it  ain't, "  said  Berry  with  chattering  teeth. 
"  Who  ebber  seed  a  man  walkin'  'roun'  wid  his  head 
split  wide  open  afo'  ?" 

The  figure  staggered  on,  looked  a  moment  at  the 
house,  turned  toward  the  burning  church,  and  then, 
seeming  to  recall  what  had  happened,  at  once  assumed 
a  stealthy  demeanor,  and,  still  staggering  as  it  went,  crept 
off  toward  the  gate,  out  of  which  it  passed  and  went  un 
steadily  off  down  the  road. 

"  Dar  ain't  no  sort  of  use  o'  his  dodgin'  'round,"  said 
Berry,  as  the  footsteps  died  away.  "  De  berry  debble  'd 
gib  him  de  road,  enny  time." 

As  he  spoke,  a  whistle  sounded  down  the  road. 
Berry  and  Lugena  instantly  sought  shelter  in  the  corn. 
Crouching  low  between  the  rows,  they  saw  four  men 
come  cautiously  into  the  yard,  examine  the  prostrate 
man  that  remained,  and  bear  him  off  between  them,  using 
for  a  stretcher  the  pieces  of  the  coffin-shaped  board 
which  had  been  hung  upon  the  gate  two  weeks  before. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


THE  convalescence  of  Mollie  Ainslie  was  very  rapid, 
and  a  few  days  after  the  crisis  of  her  disease  her  attend 
ants  were  able  to  return  to  their  homes  at  Red  Wing. 
Great  was  the  rejoicing  there  over  the  recovery  of  their 
favorite  teacher.  The  school  had  been  greatly  crippled 
by  her  absence  and  showed,  even  in  that  brief  period,  how 
much  was  due  to  her  ability  and  skill.  Everybody  was 
clamorous  for  her  immediate  return — everybody  except 
Eliab  Hill,  who  after  an  almost  sleepless  night  sent  a 
letter  begging  her  not  to  return  for  a  considerable  time. 

It  was  a  strangely  earnest  letter  for  one  of  its  apparent 
import.  The  writer  dwelt  at  considerable  length  upon  the 
insidious  and  treacherous  character  of  the  disease  from 
which  she  was  recovering.  He  grew  eloquent  as  he  detail 
ed  all  that  the  people  of  Red  Wing  owed  to  her  exert 
ions  in  their  behalf,  and  told  how,  year  after  year, 
without  any  vacation,  she  had  labored  for  them.  He 
showed  that  this  must  have  been  a  strain  upon  her  vital 
energies,  and  pointed  out  the  danger  of  relapse  should 
she  resume  her  duties  before  she  had  fully  recovered. 
He  begged  her,  therefore,  to  remain  at  Mulberry  Hill  at 
least  a  month  longer  ;  and,  to  support  his  request,  inform 
ed  her  that  with  the  advice  and  consent  of  the  Superin 
tendent  he  had  dismissed  the  school  until  that  time.  He 
took  especial  pains,  too,  to  prevent  the  report  of  the 
threatened  difficulty  from  coming  to  her  ears.  This  was 
the  more  easily  accomplished  from  the  fact  that  those 
who  had  apprehended  trouble  were  afraid  of  being  deem 
ed  cowardly  if  they  acknowledged  their  belief.  So,  while 

296 


• '  THE  ROSE  ABO  VE   THE  MO  ULD, "  297 

the  greater  number  of  the  men  in  the  little  hamlet  were 
accustomed  to  sleep  in  the  neighboring  thickets,  in  order 
to  be  out  of  harm's  way  should  the  Ku  Klux  come  to 
make  good  their  decree,  very  little  was  said,  even  among 
themselves,  about  the  threatened  attack. 

In  utter  unconsciousness,  therefore,  of  the  fate  that 
brooded  over  those  in  whom  she  took  so  deep  an  inter 
est,  Mollie  abandoned  herself  to  the  restful  delights  of 
convalescence.  She  soon  found  herself  able  to  visit  the 
room  of  the  confirmed  invalid  below,  and  though 
she  seemed  to  detect  a  sort  of  coolness  in  her  man 
ner  she  did  not  dream  of  associating  the  change  with 
herself.  She  attributed  it  entirely  to  the  sore  afflic 
tion  which  had  fallen  upon  the  household  since  her  arri 
val,  and  which,  she  charitably  reasoned,  her  own  recov 
ery  must  revive  in  their  minds  in  full  force.  So  she  par 
doned  the  fair,  frail  invalid  who,  reclining  languidly 
upon  the  couch,  asked  as  to  her  health  and  congratu 
lated  her  in  cool,  set  phrases  upon  her  recovery. 

Such  was  not  the  case,  however,  with  her  host.  There 
were  tears  in  his  eyes  when  he  met  her  on  the  landing 
for  the  first  time  after  she  left  her  sick-bed.  She  knew 
they  were  for  the  little  Hildreth  whom  she  had  nursed 
and  whom  her  presence  recalled.  And  yet  there  was  a 
gleam  in  his  eyes  which  was  not  altogether  of  sorrow. 
She,  too,  mourned  for  the  sweet  child  whom  she  had 
learned  to  love,  and  her  eyes  responded  to  the  tender 
challenge  with  copious  tears.  Yet  her  own  feelings  were 
not  entirely  sad.  She  did  not  know  why.  She  did  not 
stop  to  analyze  or  reason.  She  only  gave  him  her  hand 
— how  thin  and  white  it  was  compared  with  the  first 
time  he  had  seen  her  and  had  noted  its  soft  plumpness  ! 

Their  lips  quivered  so  that  they  could  not  speak.  He 
held  her  hand  and  assisted  the  servant  in  leading  her  into 


298  BK/CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

the  parlor.  She  was  still  so  weak  that  they  had  to  lay  her 
on  the  sofa.  Hesden  Le  Moyne  bent  over  her  for  a  little 
while,  and  then  hurried  away.  He  had  not  said  a  word, 
and  both  had  wept  ;  yet,  as  she  closed  her  eyes  after  he 
had  gone  she  was  vaguely  conscious  that  she  had  never 
been  so  happy  before  in  her  life.  So  the  days  wore  on, 
quietly  and  swiftly,  full  of  a  tender  sorrow  tempered 
with  an  undefined  joy.  Day  by  day  she  grew  stronger 
and  brighter,  needing  less  of  assistance  but  receiving  even 
more  of  attention  from  the  stricken  father  of  her  late 
charge. 

"  You  have  not  asked  about  Satan,"  said  Mr.  Le 
Moyne  suddenly  one  day. 

"  Why  should  1  ?"  she  replied,  with  an  arch  lock. 
"  If  that  personage  will  be  equally  forgetful  of  me  I  am 
sure  I  shall  be  very  glad." 

"  Oh,  I  mean  your  horse — Midnight,  as  you  call  him," 
laughed  Hesden. 

"  So  I  supposed,"  she  replied.  "  I  have  a  dim  no 
tion  that  you  applied  that  eipthet  to  him  on  the  night  of 
my  arrival.  Your  mother,  too,  said  something  about 
'  Satan,'  that  night,  which  1  remember  puzzled  me  very 
greatly  at  the  moment,  but  I  was  too  much  flustered  to 
ask  about  it  just  then.  Thinking  cf  it  afterward,  I 
concluded  that  she  intended  to  refer  to  my  black-skinned 
pet.  But  why  do  you  give  him  that  name  ?" 

"  Because  that  was  the  first  name  he  ever  knew,"  an 
swered  Hesden,  with  an  amused  smile. 

4  The  first  name  he  ever  knew  ?  I  don't  understand 
you,"  she  replied.  "  My  brother  captured  him  at  Ap- 
pomattox,  or  near  there,  and  named  him  Midnight,  and 
Midnight  he  has  been  ever  since." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Hesden,  "  but  he  was  Satan  before 
that,  and  very  well  earned  ihis  name,  in  his  young  days." 


"THE  KOSE  ABOVE   THE  MOULD"  299 

"  In  his  young  days  ?"  she  asked,  turning  towards  him 
in  surprise.  "  Did  you  know  him  then  ?" 

'  Very  well,  indeed,"  he  replied,  smiling  at  her  eager 
ness.  "  He  was  raised  on  this  plantation  and  never 
knew  any  other  master  than  me  until  that  day  at  Rouse's 
Bridge." 

"  Why,  that  is  the  very  place  my  brother  captured 
him.  I  remember  the  name  now  that  you  mention  it  !" 
she  exclaimed. 

"  Is  it  anything  surprising,"  said  he,  "  that  the  day  I 
lost  him  should  be  the  day  he  captured  him  ?" 

"  No — not  exactly — but  then" —  she  paused  in  confu 
sion  as  she  glanced  at  the  empty  sleeve  which  was  pinned 
across  his  breast. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  noticing  her  look,  ''I  lost  that 
there,"  pointing  to  the  empty  sleeve  as  he  spoke  ;  "  and 
though  it  was  a  sore  loss  to  a  young  man  who  prided 
himself  somewhat  on  his  physical  activity,  I  believe  I 
mourned  the  horse  more  than  I  did  the  arm." 

"  But  my  brother — "  she  began  with  a  frightened 
look  into  his  face. 

"  Well,  he  must  have  been  in  my  immediate  vicinity, 
for  Satan  was  the  best-trained  horse  in  the  squadron. 
Even  after  I  was  dismounted,  he  would  not  have  failed 
to  keep  his  place  in  the  ranks  when  the  retreat  was 
sounded,  unless  an  unusually  good  horseman  were  on  his 
back." 

"  My  brother  said  he  had  as  hard  a  struggle  with  him 
then  as  he  had  with  his  rider  before,"  she  said,  looking 
shyly  up. 

"  Indeed  !  I  am  obliged  to  him,"  he  responded  with  a 
smile.  '  The  commendation  of  an  enemy  is  always 
pleasant  to  a  soldier. 

"  Oh,  he  said  you  were  terribly  bloodthirsty  and  rode 


300  BRICKS  II 7  TIIO  UT  S TA'.l  II '. 

at  him  as  if  nothing  would  satisfy  you  but  his  life,"  she 
said,  with  great  eagerness. 

"  Very  likely,"  he  answered,  lightly.  "  I  have  some 
reputation  for  directness  of  purpose,  and  that  was  a  mo 
ment  of  desperation.  We  did  not  know  whether  we 
should  come  back  or  not,  and  did  not  care.  We  knew 
that  the  end  was  very  near,  and  few  of  us  wished  to  out 
live  it.  Not  that  we  cared  so  much — many  of  us  at 
least — for  the  cause  we  fought  ior  ;  but  we  dreaded 
the  humiliation  of  surrender  and  the  stigma  of  defeat. 
We  felt  the  disgrace  to  our  people  with  a  keenness  that  no 
one  can  appreciate  who  has  not  been  in  like  circum 
stances.  I  was  opposed  to  the  war  myself,  but  I  would 
rather  have  died  than  have  lived  to  see  the  surrender." 

"  It  must  have  been  hard, "she  said,  softly. 

"  Hard  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  should  think  it  was  ! 
But  then,"  he  added,  his  brow  suddenly  clearing,  "  next 
to  the  fact  of  surrender  I  dreaded  the  loss  of  my  horse.  I 
even  contemplated  shooting  him  to  prevent  his  falling  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy." 

"  My  brother  thought  you  were  rather  anxious  to 
throw  away  your  own  life,"  she  said,  musingly. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  just  indifferent.  I  wonder  if 
I  saw  him  at  all." 

"  Oh,  you  must,  for  you —  '  she  began  eagerly,  but 
stopped  in  confusion. 

"  Well,  what  did  I  do  ?  Nothing  very  bad,  I  hope  ?" 
he  asked. 

"  Well,  you  left  an  ugly  scar  on  a  very  smooth  fore 
head,  if  you  call  that  bad,  sir,"  she  said,  archly. 

"  Indeed  !  Of  course  I  do,"  was  the  reply,  but  his 
tone  indicated  that  he  was  thinking  less  of  the  atrocity 
which  she  had  laid  to  his  charge  than  of  the  events  of 
that  last  day  of  battle.  "  Let  me  see,"  said  he,  musing- 


"THE  ROSE  ABOVE  THE  MOULD."  301 

ly.  "I  had  a  sharp  turn  with  a  fellow  on  a  gray  horse. 
He  was  a  slender,  fair-haired  man  " — looking  down  at 
the  figure  on  the  sofa  behind  which  he  stood  as  if  to  note 
if  there  were  any  resemblance.  "  He  was  tall,  as  tall  as 
I  am,  I  should  say,  and  I  thought — I  was  of  the  impres 
sion — that  he  was  of  higher  rank  than  a  captain.  He 
was  somewhat  in  advance  of  his  line  and  right  in  my 
path.  I  remember  thinking,  as  I  crossed  swords  with 
him  that  if — if  we  were  both  killed,  the  odds  would  be 
in  favor  of  our  side.  He  must  have  been  a  colonel  at 
least,  or  I  was  mistaken  in  his  shoulder-straps." 

"  My  brother  was  a  colonel  of  volunteers,"  she  said, 
quietly.  "He  was  only  a  captain,  however,  after  his 
transfer  to  the  regular  army. " 

"  Indeed  !"  said  he  with  new  interest.  "  What  was 
he  like?" 

For  answer  Mollie  put  her  hand  to  her  throat,  and 
opening  a  gold  locket  which  she  wore,  held  up  the  case 
so  far  as  the  chain  would  allow  while  Hesden  bent  over 
to  look  at  it.  His  face  was  very  near  her  own,  and  she 
noted  the  eagerness  with  which  he  scanned  the  picture. 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  man  !"  he  said  at  length,  with  some 
thing  like  a  sigh.  "  I  hope  I  did  not  injure  him  se 
riously.  ' ' 

"  Only  his  beauty,"  she  replied,  pleasantly. 

"  Of  which,  judging  from  what  I  see,"  he  said  saucily, 
letting  his  eyes  wander  from  the  miniature  to  her  face* 
"  he  could  afford  to  lose  a  good  deal  and  yet  not  suffer 
by  comparison  with  others." 

It  was  a  bold,  blunt  compliment,  yet  it  was  uttered 
with  evident  sincerity  ;  but  she  had  turned  the  locket  so 
that  she  could  see  the  likeness  and  did  not  catch  the 
double  meaning  of  his  words.  So  she  only  answered 
calmly  and  earnestly, 


302  BKICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  He  was  a  good  brother." 

A  shadow  passed  over  his  face  as  he  noticed  her  inat 
tention  to  his  compliment,  but  he  added  heartily, 

11  And  a  gallant  one.  I  am  glad  that  my  horse  fell 
into  his  hands." 

She  looked  at  him  and  said, 
'  You  were  very  fond  of  your  horse  ?" 

4  Yes,  indeed  !"  he  answered.  "  He  was  a  great  pet 
before  we  went  into  the  service,  and  my  constant  com 
panion  for  nearly  three  years  of  that  struggle.  But  come 
out  on  the  porch,  and  let  me  show  you  some  of  the  tricks 
1  taught  him,  and  you  will  not  only  understand  how  I 
prized  him,  but  will  appreciate  his  sagacity  more  than 
you  do  now." 

He  assisted  her  to  a  rocking-chair  upon  the  porch,  and, 
bidding  a  servant  to  bring  out  the  horse,  said  : 

'  You  must  remember  that  I  have  but  one  arm  and 
have  not  seen  him,  until  lately,  at  least,  for  five  years. 
"Poor  old  fellow!"  he  added,  as  he  went  down  the 
steps  of  the  porch,  and  told  the  servant  to  turn  him 
loose.  He  called  him  up  with  a  snap  of  his  thumb  and  fin 
ger  as  he  entered  the  yard  and  patted  his  head  which  was 
stretched  out  to  receive  the  caress.  "  Poor  fellow  !  he  is 
not  so  young  as  he  was  then,  though  he  has  had  good  care. 
The  gray  hairs  are  beginning  to  show  on  his  muzzle,  and 
I  can  detect,  though  no  one  else  might  notice  them,  the 
wrinkles  coming  about  his  eyes.  Let  me  see,  you  are  only 
nine  years  old,  though, — nine  past.  But  it's  the  war  that 
tells — tells  on  horses  just  as  well  as  men.  You  ought  to  be 
credited  with  about  five  years  for  what  you  went  through 
then,  old  fellow.  And  a  man — Do  you  know,  Miss  Mol- 
lie,"  he  said,  breaking  suddenly  off — "  that  a  man  who 
was  in  that  war,  even  if  he  did  not  get  a  shot,  discounted 
his  life  about  ten  years  ?  It  was  the  wear  and  tear  of  the 


"TffE  ROSE  ABOVE   THE  MOULD."  303 

struggle.  We  are  different  from  other  nations.  We 
have  no  professional  soldiers — at  least  none  to  speak  of. 
To  such,  war  is  merely  a  business  and  peace  an  interlude. 
There  is  no  mental  strain  in  their  case.  But  in  our  war 
we  were  all  volunteers.  Every  man,  on  both  sides,  went 
into  the  army  with  the  fate  of  a  nation  resting  on  his 
shoulders,  and  because  he  felt  the  burden  of  responsi 
bility.  It  was  that  which  killed — killed  and  weakened — 
more  than  shot  and  shell  and  frost  and  heat  together. 
And  then — what  came  afterward  ?" 

He  turned  towards  her  as  he  spoke,  his  hand  still  rest 
ing  on  the  neck  of  the  horse  which  was  rubbing  against 
him  and  playfully  nipping  at  him  with  his  teeth,  in  man 
ifestation  of  his  delight. 

Her  face  had  settled  into  firm,  hard  lines.  She  seem 
ed  to  be  looking  beyond  him,  and  the  gray  coldness 
which  we  saw  about  her  face  when  she  read  the  tele 
gram  in  the  far-away  Bankshire  hills,  settled  on  cheek 
and  brow  again,  as  she  slowly  repeated,  as  though  un 
conscious  of  their  meaning,  the  lines  : 

"  In  the  world's  broad  field  of  battle, 

In  the  bivouac  of  Life, 
Be  not  like  dumb,  driven  cattle  ! 
Be  a  hero  in  the  strife  !" 

Hesden  Le  Moyne  gazed  at  her  a  moment  in  confused 
wonder.  Then  he  turned  to  the  horse  and  made  him 
perform  various  tricks  at  his  bidding.  He  made  him 
back  away  from  him  as  far  as  he  chose  by  the  motion  of 
his  hand,  and  then,  by  reversing  the  gesture,  brought 
him  bounding  back  again.  The  horse  lifted  either  foot 
at  his  instance,  lay  down,  rolled  over,  stood  upon  his 
hind  feet,  and  finally  knelt  upon  the  edge  of  the  porch 
in  obeisance  to  his  mistress,  who  sat  looking,  although 
jn  a  preoccupied  manner,  at  all  that  was  done.  Hesden 


3°4  B KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Le  Moyne  was  surprised  and  somewhat  disappointed 
at  her  lack  of  enthusiasm  over  what  he  thought  would 
give  her  so  much  pleasure.  She  thanked  him  absently 
when  it  was  over,  and  retired  to  her  own  room. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

WHAT     THE     MIST     HID. 

THE  darkness  was  already  giving  way  to  the  gray  light 
of  a  misty  morning  following  the  attack  on  Red  Wing. 
The  mocking-birds,  one  after  another,  were  responding 
to  each  other's  calls,  at  first  sleepily  and  unwillingly,  as 
though  the  imprisoned  melody  compelled  expression, 
and  then,  thoroughly  aroused  and  perched  upon  the 
highest  dew-laden  branches  swaying  and  tossing  beneath 
them,  they  poured  forth  their  rival  orisons.  Other 
sounds  of  rising  day  were  coming  through  the  mist  that 
still  hung  over  the  land,  shutting  out  the  brightness  which 
was  marching  from  the  eastward.  The  crowing  of  cocks, 
the  neighing  of  horses,  and  the  lowing  of  cattle  resounded 
from  hill  to  hill  across  the  wide  bottom-lands  and  up  and 
down  the  river  upon  either  hand.  Nature  was  waking 
from  slumber — not  to  the  full,  boisterous  wakefulness 
which  greets  the  broad  day,  but  the  half-consciousness 
with  which  the  sluggard  turns  himself  for  the  light,  sweet 
sleep  of  the  summer  morning. 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  open  window  that  stood  at  the 
head  of  Hesden  Le  Moyne's  bed.  His  room  was  across 
the  hall  from  his  mother's,  and  upon  the  same  floor.  It 
had  been  his  room  from  childhood.  The  window  opened 
upon  the  wide,  low  porch  which  ran  along  three  sides  of 


WHA  T  THE  MIS 'T  HID.  305 

the  great  rambling  house.  Hesden  heard  the  tap,  but 
it  only  served  to  send  his  half-awakened  fancy  on  a  fan 
tastic  trip  through  dreamland.  Again  came  the  low,  in 
quiring  tap,  this  time  upon  the  headboard  of  the  old  ma 
hogany  bedstead.  He  thought  it  was  one  of  the  servants 
coming  for  orders  about  the  day's  labors.  He  wondered, 
vaguely  and  dully,  what  could  be  wanted.  Perhaps  they 
would  go  away  if  he  did  not  move.  Again  it  came,  cau 
tious  and  low,  but  firm  and  imperative,  made  by  the  nail 
of  one  finger  struck  sharply  and  regularly  against  the 
polished  headboard.  It  was  a  summons  and  a  command 
for  silence  at  once.  Hesden  raised  himself  quickly  and 
looked  toward  the  window.  The  outline  of  a  human 
figure  showed  dimly  against  the  gray  darkness  beyond. 

"Who's  there?" — in  a  low,  quiet  voice,  as  though 
caution  had  been  distinctly  enjoined. 

"  Marse  Hesden  !" — a  low  whisper,  full  of  suppressed 
excitement. 

'  You,  Nimbus  ?"  said  Le  Moyne,  as  he  stepped 
quickly  out  of  bed  and  approached  the  window. 
"  What's  the  matter  ?" 

"  Marse  Hesden,"  whispered  the  colored  man,  laying 
a  hand  trembling  with  excitement  on  his  shoulder  as  he 
came  near,  "  is- yer  a  friend  ter  'Liab  Hill  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  am  ;  you  know  that" — in  an  impatient 
undertone. 

"  Sh — sh  !  Marse  Hesden,  don't  make  no  noise, 
please,"  whispered  Nimbus.  "I  don't  mean  ter  ax  ef 
yer's  jes  got  nothin'  agin'  him,  but  is  yer  that  kind  ob 
a  friend  ez  '11  stan'  by  him  in  trouble  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Nimbus?"  asked  Hesden  in 
surprise. 

"  Will  yer  come  wid  me,  Marse  Hesden — slip  on  yer 
clo'es  an'  come  wid  me,  jist  a  minnit  ?" 


BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Hesden  did  not  think  of  denying  this  request.  It  was 
evident  that  something  of  grave  importance  had  oc 
curred.  Hardly  a  moment  had  elapsed  before  he  stepped 
cautiously  out  upon  the  porch  and  followed  Nimbus. 
The  latter  led  the  way  quickly  toward  a  spring  which  burst 
out  of  the  hillside  fifty  yards  away  from  the  house,  at  the 
foot  of  a  giant  oak.  Lying  in  the  shadow  of  this  tree  and 
reclining  against  its  base,  lay  Eliab  Hill,  his  pallid  face 
showing  through  the  darkness  like  the  face  of  the  dead. 

A  few  words  served  to  tell  Hesden  Le  Moyne  what 
the  reader  already  knows. 

"  I  brought  him  here,  Marse  Hesden,  kase  ther  ain't 
no  place  else  dat  he'd  be  safe  whar  he  could  be  tuk  keer 
on.  Dem  ar  Kluckers  is  bound  ter  kill  him  ef  dey  kin. 
He's  got  ter  be  hid  an'  tuk  keer  on  till  he's  well — ef  he 
ever  gits  well  at  all." 

11  Why,  you  don't  think  he's  hurt — not  seriously,  do 
you  ?" 

"  Hurt,  man  !"  said  Nimbus,  impatiently.  "  Dar 
ain't  much  difference  atwixt  him  an'  a  dead  man, 
now." 

"  Good  God  !  Nimbus,  you  don't  mean  that.  He 
seems  to  sleep  well,"  said  Hesden,  bending  over  the 
prostrate  form. 

"  Sleep  !  Marse  Hesden,  I'se  kerried  him  tree  miles 
sence  he's  been  a-sleepin'  like  dat  ;  an'  de  blood's  been 
a  runnin'  down  on  myhans  an'  a-breakin*  my  holt  ebbery 
now  an'  den,  tu  !" 

41  Why,  Nimbus,  what  is  this  you  tell  me  ?  Wras  any 
one  else  hurt  ?" 

"  Wai,  dar's  a  couple  o'  white  men  a-layin'  mighty 
quiet  dar,  afo'  'Liab's  house." 

Hesden  shuddered.  The  time  he  had  dreaded  had 
come  !  The  smouldering  passion  of  the  South  had  burst 


WHAT  THE  MIST  HID.  307 

forth  at  last  !  For  years — ever  since  the  war — preju 
dice  and  passion,  the  sense  of  insult  and  oppression  had 
been  growing  thicker  and  blacker  all  over  the  South. 
Thunders  had  rolled  over  the  land.  Lightnings  had 
fringed  its  edges.  The  country  had  heard,  but  had  not 
heeded.  The  nation  had  looked  on  with  smiling  face, 
and  declared  the  sunshine  undimmed.  It  had  taken  no 
note  of  exasperation  and  prejudice.  It  had  unconsciously 
trampled  under  foot  the  passionate  pride  of  a  conquered 
people.  It  had  scorned  and  despised  a  sentiment  more 
deeply  inwrought  than  that  of  caste  in  the  Hindoo  breast. 

The  South  believed,  honestly  believed,  in  its  innate 
superiority  over  all  other  races  and  peoples.  It  did  not 
doubt,  has  never  doubted,  that,  man  for  man,  it  was 
braver,  stronger,  better  than  the  North.  Its  men  were 
"  gentlemen" — grander,  nobler  beings  than  the  North 
ever  knew.  Their  women  were  "  ladies" — gentle,  re 
fined,  ethereal  beings,  passion  and  devotion  wrapped 
in  forms  of  ethereal  mould,  and  surrounded  by  an  impal 
pable  effulgence  which  distinguished  them  from  all  others 
of  the  sex  throughout  the  world.  Whatever  was  of  the 
South  was  superlative.  To  be  Southern-born  was  to  be 
prima  facie  better  than  other  men.  So  the  self-love  of 
every  man  was  enlisted  in  this  sentiment.  To  praise  the 
South  was  to  praise  himself  ;  to  boast  of  its  valor  was  to 
advertise  his  own  intrepidity  ;  to  extol  its  women  was 
to  enhance  the  glory  of  his  own  achievements  in  the  lists 
of  love  ;  to  vaunt  its  chivalry  was  to  avouch  his  own 
honor  ;  to  laud  its  greatness  was  to  extol  himself.  He 
measured  himself  with  his  Northern  compeer,  and  de 
cided  without  hesitation  in  his  own  favor. 

The  South,  he  felt,  was  unquestionably  greater  than 
the  North  in  all  those  things  which  were  most  excellent, 
and  was  only  overtopped  by  it  in  those  things  which  were 


3°8  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

the  mere  result  of  numbers.  Outnumbered  on  the  field 
of  battle,  the  South  had  been  degraded  and  insulted  t>y 
a  sordid  and  low-minded  conqueror,  in  the  very  hour  of 
victory.  Outnumbered  at  the  ballot-box,  it  had  still  dic 
tated  the  policy  of  the  Nation.  The  Southern  white  man 
naturally  compared  himself  with  his  Northern  brother. 
For  comparison  between  himself  and  the  African — the 
recent  slave,  the  scarcely  human  anthropoid — he  found 
no  ground.  Only  contrast  was  possible  there.  To  have 
these  made  co-equal  rulers  with  him,  seated  beside  him 
on  the  throne  of  popular  sovereignty,  merely,  as  he  hon 
estly  thought,  for  the  gratification  of  an  unmanly  spite 
against  a  fallen  foe,  aroused  every  feeling  of  exasperation 
and  revenge  which  a  people  always  restive  of  restraint 
could  feel. 

It  was  not  from  hatred  to  the  negro,  but  to  destroy 
his  political  power  and  restore  again  their  own  insulted 
and  debased  supremacy  that  such  things  were  done  as 
have  been  related.  It  was  to  show  the  conqueror 
that  the  bonds  in  which  the  sleeping  Samson  had  been 
bound  were  green  withes  which  he  scornfully  snapped 
asunder  in  his  first  waking  moment.  Pride  the  most 
overweening,  and  a  prejudice  of  caste  the  most  intense 
and  ineradicable,  stimulated  by  the  chagrin  of  defeat 
and  inflamed  by  the  sense  of  injustice  and  oppression — 
both  these  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  acts  by  which  the  rule 
of  the  majorities  established  by  reconstructionary  legis 
lation  were  overthrown.  It  was  these  things  that  so 
blinded  the  eyes  of  a  whole  people  that  they  called  this 
bloody  masquerading,  this  midnight  warfare  upon  the 
weak,  this  era  of  unutterable  horror,  "  redeeming  the 
South  !" 

There  was  no  good  man,  no  honest  man,  no  Christian 
man  of  the  South  who  for  an  instant  claimed  that  it  was 


WHAT  THE  MIST  HID.  3°9 

right  to  kill,  maim,  beat,  wound  and  ill-treat  the'  black 
man,  either  in  his  old  or  his  new  estate.  He  did  not 
regard  these  acts  as  done  to  another  man,  a  compeer,  but 
only  as  acts  of  cruelty  to  an  inferior  so  infinitely  re 
moved  from  himself  as  to  forbid  any  comparison  of  rights 
or  feelings.  It  was  not  right  to  do  evil  to  a  "  nigger  ;" 
but  it  was  infinitely  less  wrong  than  to  do  it  unto  one 
of  their  own  color.  These  men  did  not  consider  such 
'acts  as  right  in  themselves,  but  only  as  right  in  view 
of  their  comparative  importance  and  necessity,  and  the 
unspeakable  inferiority  of  their  victims. 

For  generations  the  South  had  regarded  the  uprising 
of  the  black,  the  assertion  uf  his  manhood  and  auton 
omy,  as  the  ultima  thule  of  possible  evil.  San  Domingo 
and  hell  were  twin  horrors  in  their  minds,  with  the  odds, 
however,  in  favor  of  San  Domingo.  To  prevent  negro 
domination  anything  was  justifiable.  It  was  a  choice 
of  evils,  where  on  one  side  was  placed  an  evil  which  they 
had  been  taught  to  believe,  and  did  believe,  infinitely 
outweighed  and  overmatched  all  other  evils  in  enormity. 
Anything,  said  these  men  in  their  hearts  ;  anything,  they 
said  to  each  other  ;  anything,  they  cried  aloud  to  the 
world,  was  better,  is  better,  must  be  better,  than  negro 
rule,  than  African  domination. 

Now,  by  negro  rule  they  meant  the  exercise  of  author 
ity  by  a  majority  of  citizens  of  African  descent,  or  a 
majority  of  which  they  constituted  any  considerable  fac 
tor.  The  white  man  who  acted  with  the  negro  in  any 
relation  of  political  co-ordination  was  deemed  even  worse 
than  the  African  himself.  If  he  became  a  leader,  he  was 
anathematized  for  self-seeking.  If  he  only  co-operated 
with  his  ballot,  he  was  denounced  as  a  coward.  In  any 
event  he  was  certain  to  be  deemed  a  betrayer  of  his 
race,  a  renegade  and  an  outcast. 


310  fl  KICKS  WITHOUT  STKAll'. 

Hesden  Le  Moyne  was  a  Southern  white  man.  All  that 
has  just  been  written  was  essential  truth  to  him.  It 
was  a  part  of  his  nature.  He  was  as  proud  as  the 
proudest  of  his  fellows.  The  sting  of  defeat  still  rankled 
in  his  heart.  The  sense  of  infinite  distance  between  his 
race  and  that  unfortunate  race  whom  he  pitied  so  sin 
cerely,  to  whose  future  he  looked  forward  with  so  much 
apprehension,  was  as  distinct  and  palpable  to  him  as  to 
any  one  of  his  compeers.  The  thousandth  part  of  a  drop 
of  the  blood  of  the  despised  race  degraded,  in  his  mind, 
the  unfortunate  possessor 

He  had  inherited  a  dread  of  the  ultimate  results 
of  slavery.  He  wished — it  had  been  accounted  sen 
sible  in  his  family  to  wish — that  slavery  had  never 
existed.  Having  existed,  they  never  thought  of  favoring 
its  extinction.  They  thought  it  corrupting  and  demoral 
izing  to  the  white  race.  They  felt  that  it  was  separating 
them,  year  by  year,  farther  and  farther  from  that  inde 
pendent  self- relying  manhood,  which  had  built  up  Amer 
ican  institutions  and  American  prosperity.  They  feared 
the  fruit  of  this  demoralization.  For  the  sake  of  the  white 
man,  they  wished  that  the  black  had  never  been  en 
slaved.  As  to  the  blacks — they  did  not  question  the 
righteousness  of  their  enslavement.  They  did  not  care 
whether  it  were  right  or  wrong.  They  simply  did  not 
consider  them  at  all.  When  the  war  left  them  free,  they 
simply  said,  "  Poor  fellows  !"  as  they  would  of  a  dog 
without  a  master.  When  the  blacks  were  entrusted  with 
the  ballot,  they  said  again,  "  Poor  fellows  !"  regarding 
them  as  the  blameless  instrument  by  which  a  bigoted  and 
revengeful  North  sought  to  degrade  and  humiliate  a  foe 
overwhelmed  only  by  the  accident  of  numbers  ;  the  col 
ored  race  being  to  these  Northern  people  like  the  cat  with 
whose  paw  the  monkey  dragged  his  chestnuts  from  the 


WHAT  THE  MIST  HID.  311 

fire.  Hesden  had  only  wondered  what  the  effect  of 
these  things  would  be  upon  ''the  South  ;"  meaning  by 
"  the  South"  that  regnant  class  to  which  his  family  be 
longed — a  part  of  which,  by  a  queer  synecdoche,  stood 
for  the  whole. 

His  love  for  his  old  battle-steed,  and  his  curious  inter 
est  in  its  new  possessor,  had  led  him  to  consider  the 
experiment  at  Red  Wing  with  some  care.  His  pride  and 
interest  in  Eliab  as  a  former  slave  of  his  family  had  still 
further  fixed  his  attention  and  awakened  his  thought. 
And,  finally,  his  acquaintance  with  Mollie  Ainslie  had 
led  him  unconsciously  to  sympathize  with  the  object  of 
her  constant  care  and  devotion. 

So,  while  he  stood  there  beside  the  stricken  man,  whose 
breath  came  stertorous  and  slow,  he  was  in  that  condi 
tion  of  mind  of  all  others  most  perilous  to  the  Southern 
man — he  had  begun  to  doubt :  to  doubt  the  infallibility 
of  his  hereditary  notions  ;  to  doubt  the  super-excellence 
of  Southern  manhood,  and  the  infinite  superiority  of 
Southern  womanhood  ;  to  doubt  the  incapacity  of  the 
negro  for  self-maintenance  and  civilization  ;  to  doubt,  in 
short,  all  those  dogmas  which  constitute  the  differential 
characteristics  of  "  the  Southern  man."  He  had  gone  so 
far — a  terrible  distance  to  one  of  his  origin — as  to  admit 
the  possibility  of  error.  He  had  begun  to  question — God 
forgive  him,  if  it  seemed  like  sacrilege — he  had  begun  to 
question  whether  the  South  might  not  have  been  wrong — 
might  not  still  be  wrong — wrong  in  the  principle  and 
practice  of  slavery,  wrong  in  the  theory  and  fact  of 
secession  and  rebellion,  wrong  in  the  hypothesis  of  hate 
on  the  part  of  the  conquerors,  wrong  in  the  assumption 
of  exceptional  and  unapproachable  excellence. 

The  future  was  as  misty  as  the  gray  morning. 


CHAPTER   XL 

DAWNING. 

HESDEN  LE  MOYNE  stood  with  Nimbus  under  the 
great  low-branching  oak.  in  the  chill  morning,  and  lis 
tened  to  the  labored  breathing  of  the  man  for  the  sake  of 
whose  humanity  his  father  had  braved  public  opinion  in 
the  old  slave-era,  which  already  seemed  centuries  away 
in  the  dim  past.  The  training  of  his  life,  the  conditions 
of  his  growth,  bore  fruit  in  that  moment.  He  pitied 
the  outraged  victim,  he  was  shocked  at  the  barbarity  of 
his  fellows  ;  but  there  was  no  sense  of  injustice,  no 
feeling  of  sacred  rights  trampled  on  and  ignored  in  the 
person  of  the  sufferer.  He  remembered  when  he  had 
played  with  Eliab  beside  his  mother's  hearth  ;  when  he 
had  varied  the  monotony  of  study  by  teaching  the  crip 
pled  slave-boy  the  tasks  he  himself  was  required  to  per 
form.  The  tenderness  of  old  associations  sprang  up  in 
his  mind  and  he  felt  himself  affronted  in  the  person  of 
the  protege  of  his  family.  He  disliked  cruelty  ;  he  hated 
cowardice  ;  and  he  felt  that  Eliab  Hill  had  been  the  vic 
tim  of  a  cruel  and  cowardly  assault.  He  remembered 
how  faithfully  this  man's  mother  had  nursed  his  own. 
Above  all,  the  sentiment  of  comradeship  awoke.  This  man 
who  had  been  his  playfellow  had  been  brutally  treated 
because  of  his  weakness.  He  would  not  see  him  bullied. 
He  would  stand  by  him  to  the  death. 

"  The  cowards  !"  he  hissed  through  his  teeth.  "  Bring 
him  in,  Nimbus,  quick  !  They  needn't  expect  me  to 
countenance  such  brutality  as  this  !" 

41  Marse  Hesden,"  said  the  black  Samson  who  had 
stood,  silently  watching  the  white  playmate  of  his  boy- 

312 


DAWN  IXC.  313 

hood,  while  the  latter  recovered  himself  from  the  sort 
of  stupor  into  which  the  revelation  he  had  heard  had 
thrown  him,  "  God  bress  yer  fer  dem  words  !  I  'llowed 
yer'd  stan'  by  'Liab.  Dat's  why  I  fotched  him  h'yer. " 

"  Of  course  I  would,  and  by  you  too,  Nimbus." 

"  No,  Marse  Hesden,  dat  wouldn't  do  no  sort  o'  good. 
Nimbus  hez  jes  got  ter  cut  an'  run  fer  it.  I  'specs  them 
ar  dat's  a  lyin'  dar  in  front  ob  'Liab's  do'  ain't  like  ter 
do  no  mo'  troublin'  ;  an'  yer  knows,  Marse  Hesden, 
'twouldn't  nebber  be  safe  fer  a  cullu'd  man  dat's  done 
dat  ar  ter  try  an'  lib  h'yerabouts  no  mo'  !" 

"  But  you  did  it  in  defense  of  life.  You  had  a  right 
to  do  it,  Nimbus." 

"  Dar  ain't  no  doubt  o'  dat,  Marse  Hesden,  but  I'se 
larned  dat  de  right  ter  du  a  ting  an'  de  doin'  on't  is  two 
mighty  diff'rent  tings,  when  it's  a  cullu'd  man  ez  does  it. 
I  hed  a  right  ter  buy  a  plantation  an'  raise  terbacker  ; 
an'  'Liab  hed  a  right  ter  teach  an'  preach  ;  an'  we  both 
hed  a  right  ter  vote  for  ennybody  we  had  a  mind  ter 
choose.  An'  so  we  did  ;  an'  dat's  all  we  done,  tu. 
An'  now  h'yer's  what's  come  on't,  Marse  Hesden." 

Nimbus  pointed  to  the  bruised  creature  before  them 
as  he  spoke,  and  his  tones  sounded  like  an  arraignment. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  Nimbus,"  said  the  white 
man.  with  a  sense  of  self-abasement  he  had  never  thought 
to  feel  before  one  of  the  inferior  race.  "  But  bring  him 
in,  we  must  not  waste  time  here." 

"  Dat's  a  fac',"  said  Nimbus,  with  a  glance  at  the 
East.  "  'Tain't  more'n  'bout  a  hour  till  sun-up,  an'  I 
mustn't  be  seen  hereabouts  atter  dat.  Dey'll  be  a  look- 
in'  atter  me,  an'  'twon't  be  safe  fer  Nimbus  ter  be  no 
whar  'cept  in  de  mos'  lonesome  places.  But  whar's  ye 
gwine  ter  put  'Liab,  Marse  Hesden  ?" 

"In  the  house — anywhere,    only  be  quick  about  it. 


3 14  JiKICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Don't  let  him  die  here  !"  said  Hesden,  bending  over  the 
prostrate  man  and  passing  a  hand  over  his  forehead  with 
a  shudder. 

"  But  whar' bouts  in  de  house  yer  gwine  ter  put  him, 
Marse  Hesden  ?" 

"Anywhere,  man  —  in  my  room,  if  nowhere  else. 
Come,  take  hold  here  !"  was  Hesden 's  impatient  re 
joinder  as  he  put  his  one  hand  under  Eliab's  head  and 
strove  to  raise  him  up. 

"  Dat    won't    do,     Marse     Hesden,"     said     Nimbus, 
solemnly.      'Liab  had  a  heap  better  go  back  ter  de  woods 
an'  chance  it  wid  Nimbus,  dan  be  in  your  room." 
44  Why  so?" 

44  Why  ?  Kase  yer  knows  dat  de  men  what  done  dis 
ting  ain't  a-gwine  ter  let  him  lib  ef  dey  once  knows  whar 
he's  ter  be  found.  He's  de  one  dey  wuz  atter,  jest  ez 
much  ez  Nimbus,  an'  p'raps  a  leetle  more,  dough  yer 
knows  ther  ain't  a  mite  o'  harm  in  him,  an'  nebber  was. 
But  dat  don't  matter.  Dey  tinks  dat  he  keeps  de  cullu'd 
folks  togedder,  an'  makes'  em  stan'  up  for  dere  rights,  an' 
dat's  why  dey  went  fer  him.  'Sides  dat,  ef  he  didn't 
hurt  none  on  'em  dey  know  he  seed  an'  heerd  'em,  an' 
so'll  be  af eared  ter  let  up  on  him  on  dat  account." 

44  I'd  like  to  see  the  men  that  would  take  him  out  of 
my  house  !"  said  Le  Moyne,  indignantly. 

"  Dar  'd  jes  be  two  men  killed  instead  ob  one,  ef 
yer  should,"  said  the  other,  dryly. 

14  Perhaps  you're  right,"  said  Le  Moyne,  thoughtfully. 
"  The  men  who  did  this  will  do  anything.  But  where 
shall  we  put  him  ?  He  can't  lie  here." 

44  Marse  Hesden,  does  yer  mind  de  loft  ober  de  ole 
dinin'-room,  whar  we  all  used  ter  play  ob  a  Sunday  ?" 

41  Of  course,  I've  got  my  tobacco  bulked  down  there 
now,"  was  the  answer. 


DAWNING,  315 

"  Dat's  de  place,  Marse  Hesden  !" 
"  But  there's  no  way  to  get  in  there  except  by  a  lad 
der,"  said  Hesden. 

"  So    much    de  better.     You  gits    de   ladder,    an'    I 
brings  'Liab." 

In  a  few  minutes   Eliab  was  lying  on   some  blankets, 
hastily  thrown  over  a  bulk  of  leaf  tobacco,    in   the  loft 
over  the  old  dining-room  at  Mulberry  Hill,  and  Hesden 
Le   Moyne  was   busy  bathing    his   face,    examining  his 
wounds,  and  endeavoring  to  restore  him  to  consciousness. 
Nimbus  waited  only  to  hear  his  report  that  the  wounds, 
though  numerous  and  severe,  were  not  such  as  would 
be  likely  to  prove  fatal.     There  were  several   cuts  and 
bruises  about  the  head  ;  a  shot  had  struck  the  arm,  which 
had  caused  the  loss  of  blood  ;  and  the  weakened  tendons 
of  the  cramped  and  unused  legs  had  been  torn  asunder. 
These  were  all  the  injuries  Le  Moyne  could  find.     Nim 
bus  dropped  upon  his  knees,  and  threw  his   arms   about 
the  neck  of  his  friend  at  this  report,  and  burst  into  tears. 
"  God  bress  yer,  'Liab  !    God  bress  yer  !"  he  sobbed. 
"  Nimbus  can't  do  no  mo'  fer  ye,  an'   don't  'How  he'll 
nebber  see  ye  no  mo' — no  mo'  in  dis  world  !     Good-by, 
'Liab,    good-by  !     Yer    don't    know     Nimbus's    gwine 
away,  does  yer  ?     God  bress  yer,  p'raps  it's  better  so — 
better  so  !" 

He  kissed  again  and  again  the  pale  forehead,  from 
which  the  dark  hair  had  been  brushed  back  by  repeated 
bathings.  Then  rising  and  turning  away  his  head,  he  ex 
tended  his  hand  to  Le  Moyne  and  said  : 

"  Good-bye,  Marse  Hesden  !  God  bress  yer  !  Take 
good  keer  o'  'Liab,  Mahs'r,  an' — an.' — ef  he  gits  round 
agin,  don't  let  him  try  ter  stay  h'yrabouts  —  don't, 
please  !  'Tain't  no  use  !  See  ef  yer  can't  git  him  ter 
go  ter  de  Norf,  er  somewhar.  Oh,  my  God  !"  he  ex- 


316  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

claimed,  suddenly,  as  the  memory  of  his  care  of  the 
stricken  friend  came  suddenly  upon  him,  "  my  God  ! 
what'll  he  ebber  do  widout  Nimbus  ter  keer  fer  him  ?" 

His  voice  was  drowned  in  sobs  and  his  grip  on  the 
hand  of  the  white  man  was  like  the  clasp  of  a  vice. 

"  Don't  go,  Nimbus,  don't  !"  pleaded  Hesden. 

"  I  must,  Marse  Hesden,"  said  he,  repressing  his 
sobs.  "  1'se  got  ter  see  what's  come  o'  'Gena  an'  de 
rest,  an'  it's  best  fer  both.  Good-by  !  God  bress  yer  ! 
Ef  he  comes  lu,  ax  him  sometimes  ter  pray  for  Nimbus. 
But  'tain't  no  use — no  use — fer  he'll  do  it  without  axin'. 
Good-by  !" 

He  opened  the  wooden  shutter,  ran  down  the  ladder, 
and  disappeared,  as  the  misty  morning  gave  way  to  the 
full  and  perfect  day. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

Q.    E.    1). 

As  Mollie  Ainslie  grew  stronger  day  by  day,  her  kind 
host  had  done  all  in  his  power  to  aid  her  convalescence 
by  offering  pleasing  attentions  and  cheerful  surround 
ings.  As  soon  as  she  was  able  to  ride,  she  had  been 
lifted  carefully  into  the  saddle,  and  under  his  watchful 
supervision  had  made,  each  day,  longer  and  longer  rides, 
until,  for  some  days  preceding  the  events  of  the  last  few 
chapters,  her  strength  had  so  fully  returned  that  they  had 
ridden  several  miles.  The  flush  of  health  had  returned 
to  her  cheeks,  and  the  sleep  that  followed  her  exercise 
was  restful  and  refreshing. 

Already  she  talked  of  returning  to  Red  Wing,  and, 
but  for  the  thoughtfulness  of  EHab  Hill  in  dismissing 
the  school  for  a  month  during  her  illness,  would  have 


Q.  E.  D.  317 

been  present  at  the  terrible  scenes  enacted  there.  She 
only  lingered  because  she  was  not  quite  recovered,  and 
because  there  was  a  charm  about  the  old  plantation, 
which  she  had  never  found  elsewhere.  A  new  light 
had  come  into  her  life.  She  loved  Hesden  Le  Moyne, 
and  Hesden  Le  Moyne  loved  the  Yankee  school- 
marm.  No  word  of  love  had  been  spoken.  No  caress 
had  been  offered.  A  pall  hung  over  the  household,  in 
the  gloom  of  which  the  lips  might  not  utter  words  of 
endearment.  But  the  eyes  spoke  ;  and  they  greeted  each 
other  with  kisses  of  liquid  light  when  their  glances  met. 
Flushed  cheeks  and  tones  spoke  more  than  words.  She 
waited  for  his  coming  anxiously.  He  was  restive  and 
uneasy  when  away.  The  peace  which  each  one  brought 
to  the  other's  heart  was  the  sure  witness  of  well-grounded 
love.  She  had  never  asked  herself  where  was  the  begin 
ning  or  what  would  be  the  end.  She  had  never  said  to  her 
self,"  I  love  him  ;"  but  his  presence  brought  peace,  and  in 
her  innocence  she  rested  there  as  in  an  undisturbed  haven. 
As  for  him — he  saw  and  trembled.  He  could  not  shut 
his  eyes  to  her  love  or  his  own.  He  did  not  wish  to  do 
so.  And  yet,  brave  man  as  he  was,  he  trembled  at  the 
thought.  Hesden  Le  Moyne  was  proud.  He  knew  that 
Mollie  Ainsliewas  as  proud  as  himself.  He  had  the  prej 
udices  of  his  people  and  class,  and  he  knew  also  that  she 
had  the  convictions  of  that  part  of  the  country  where  she 
had  been  reared.  He  knew  that  she  would  never  share  his 
prejudices  ;  he  had  no  idea  that  he  would  ever  share  her 
convictions.  He  wished  that  she  had  never  taught  a 
"  nigger  school" — not  for  his  own  sake,  he  said  to  him 
self,  with  a  flush  of  shame,  but  for  hers.  How  could  she 
face  sneers  ?  How  could  he  endure  insults  upon  his 
love  ?  How  could  he  ask  her  to  come  where  sneers  and 
insults  awaited  her  ? 


BKICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Love  had  set  himself  a  hard  task.  He  had  set  before 
him  this  problem  :  "  New  England  Puritanism  and 
Southern  Prejudice  ;  how  shall  they  be  reconciled  ?"  For 
the  solution  of  this  question,  there  were  given  on  one  side 
a  maiden  who  would  have  plucked  out  her  heart  and 
trampled  it  under  her  feet,  rather  than  surrender  one  tenet 
in  her  creed  of  righteousness  ;  and  on  the  other  side  a  man 
who  had  fought  for  a  cause  he  did  not  approve  rather  than 
be  taunted  with  having  espoused  one  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  her  belief.  To  laugh  at  locksmiths  was  an 
easy  thing  compared  with  the  reading  of  this  riddle  ! 

On  the  morning  when  Eliab  was  brought  to  Mulberry 
Hill,  Mrs.  Le'  Moyne  and  Mollie  breakfasted  together 
alone  in  the  room  of  the  former.  Both  were  troubled 
at  the  absence  of  the  master  of  the  house. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  he  does  not  come,"  said  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne.  "  He  is  the  soul  of  punctuality,  and  is  never 
absent  from  a  meal  when  about  home.  He  sent  in 
word  by  Laura  early  this  morning  that  he  would  not  be 
at  breakfast,  and  that  we  should  not  wait  for  him,  but 
gave  no  sort  of  reason.  I  don't  understand  it." 

"  I  hope  he  is  not  sick.  You  don't  think  he  has  the 
fever,  do  you  ?"  said  Mollie,  with  evident  anxiety. 

The  elder  woman  glanced  keenly  at  her  as  she  replied 
in  a  careless  tone  : 

"  Oh,  no  indeed.  You  have  no  occasion  for  anxiety. 
I  told  Laura  to  take  him  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll  in 
his  room,  but  she  says  he  is  not  there.  I  suppose  some 
thing  about  the  plantation  requires  his  attention.  It  is 
very  kind  of  you,  I  am  sure  ;  but  1  have  no  doubt  he  is 
quite  well." 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  as  well  as  the  words 
which  cut  the  young  girl  to  the  heart.  She  could  not 
tell  what  it  was.  She  did  not  dream  that  it  was  aimed 


Q.  E.  D.  3J9 

at  herself.  She  only  knew  that  it  sounded  harsh  and 
cold,  and  unkind.  Her  heart  was  very  tender.  Sickness 
and  love  had  thrown  her  off  her  guard  against  sneers  and 
hardness.  It  did  not  once  occur  to  her  that  the  keen- 
sighted  invalid,  whose  life  was  bound  up  in  her  son's 
life,  had  looked  into  the  heart  which  had  never  yet  syl 
labled  the  love  which  filled  it,  and  hated  what  she  saw. 
She  did  not  deem  it  possible  that  there  should  be  aught 
but  kindly  feeling  for  her  in  the  household  she  had  all 
but  died  to  serve.  Moreover,  she  had  loved  the  delicate 
invalid  ever  since  she  had  received  a  letter  from  her 
hand.  She  had  always  been  accustomed  to  that  uncon 
scious  equality  of  common  right  and  mutual  courtesy 
that  prevails  so  widely  at  the  North,  and  had  never 
thought  of  construing  the  letter  as  one  of  patronizing  ap 
proval.  She  had  counted  it  a  friendly  commendation, 
not  only  of  herself,  but  of  her  work.  This  woman  she 
had  long  pictured  to  herself  as  one  that  rose  above  the 
prejudice  by  which  she  was  surrounded.  She  who,  in 
the  old  times,  had  bravely  taught  Eliab  Hill  to  read  in  de 
fiance  of  the  law,  would  surely  approve  of  a  work  like  hers. 
So  thought  the  silly  girl,  not  knowing  that  the  gentle 
invalid  had  taught  Eliab  Hill  the  little  that  he  knew  be 
fore  emancipation  more  to  show  her  defiance  of  med 
dling  objectors,  than  for  the  good  of  the  boy.  In  fact, 
she  had  had  no  idea  of  benefiting  him,  other  than  by 
furnishing  him  a  means  of  amusement  in  the  enforced 
solitude  of  his  affliction.  Mollie  did  not  consider  that 
Hester  Le  Moyne  was  a  Southern  woman,  and  as  such, 
while  she  might  admire  courage  and  accomplishments  in 
a  woman  of  Northern  birth,  always  did  so  with  a  mental 
reservation  in  favor  of  her  own  class.  When,  however, 
one  came  from  the  North  to  teach  the  negroes,  in  order 
that  they  might  overpower  and  rule  the  whites,  which  she 


320  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

devoutly  believed  to  be  the  sole  purpose  of  the  colored 
educational  movement,  no  matter  under  what  specious 
guise  of  charity  it  might  be  done,  she  could  not  go  even 
so  far  as  that. 

Yet,  if  such  a  one  came  to  her,  overwhelmed  by  stress 
of  weather,  she  would  give  her  shelter  ;  if  she  were  ill  she 
would  minister  unto  her  ;  for  these  were  Christian  duties. 
If  she  were  fair  and  bright,  and  brave,  she  would  delight 
to  entertain  her  ;  for  that  was  a  part  of  the  hospitality 
of  which  the  South  boasted.  There  was  some 
thing  enjoyable,  too,  in  parading  the  riches  of  a  well- 
stocked  wardrobe  and  the  lavish  splendors  of  an  old 
Southern  home  to  one  who,  she  believed,  had  never  seen 
such  magnificence  before  ;  for  the  belief  that  poverty  and 
poor  fare  are  the  common  lot  of  the  country  folks  at  the 
North  is  one  of  the  fallacies  commonly  held  by  all 
classes  at  the  South.  As  slavery,  which  was  the  uni 
versal  criterion  of  wealth  and  culture  at  the  South,  did 
not  prevail  at  all  at  the  North,  they  unconsciously  and 
naturally  came  to  associate  self-help  with  degradation,  and 
likened  the  Northern  fanner  to  the  poor  white  "  crop 
per."  Where  social  rank  was  measured  by  the  length 
of  the  serving  train,  it  was  not  strange  that  the  Northern 
self-helper  should  be  despised  and  his  complacent  as 
sumption  of  equal  gentility  scorned. 

So  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  had  admired  the  courage  of  Mol- 
lie  Ainslie  before  she  saw  her  ;  she  had  been  charmed 
with  her  beauty  and  artless  grace  on  the  first  night  of  her 
stay  at  Mulberry  Hill,  and  had  felt  obliged  to  her  for 
her  care  of  the  little  Hildreth  ;  but  she  had  not  once 
thought  of  considering  her  the  peer  of  the  Richardses 
and  the  Le  Moynes,  or  as  standing  upon  the  same  social 
plane  as  herself.  She  was,  no  doubt,  good  and  honest 
and  brave,  very  well  educated  and  accomplished,  but  by 


Q.  E.  D.  321 

no  means  a  lady  in  her  sense  of  the  word.  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne's  feeling  toward  the  Northern  school-teacher  was 
very  like  that  which  the  English  gentry  express  when  they 
use  the  word  "  person. "  There  is  no  discredit  in  the 
term.  The  individual  referred  to  may  be  the  incarnation 
of  every  grace  and  virtue,  only  he  is  of  a  lower  degree  in 
the  social  scale.  He  is  of  another  grade. 

Entertaining  such  feelings  toward  Mollie,  it  was 
no  wonder  that  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  was  not  pleased  to  see 
the  anxious  interest  that  young  lady  freely  exhibited  in 
the  health  of  her  son. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  young  New  England  girl  never 
suspected  the  existence  of  such  sentiments.  Conscious 
of  intellectual  and  moral  equality  with  her  hostess,  she 
did  not  imagine  that  there  could  be  anything  of  patron 
age,  or  anything  less  than  friendly  sympathy  and  ap 
proval,  in  the  welcome  she  had  received  at  Mulberry 
Hill.  This  house  had  seemed  to  her  like  a  new  home. 
The  exile  which  she  had  undergone  at  Red  Wing  had 
unfitted  her  for  the  close  analysis  of  such  pleasing  asso 
ciations.  Therefore,  the  undertone  in  Mrs.  Le  Moyne's 
remarks  came  upon  her  like  a  blow  from  an  unseen 
hand.  She  felt  hurt  and  humbled,  but  she  could  not 
exactly  tell  why.  Her  heart  grew  suddenly  heavy.  Her 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  dallied  a  little  while  with 
coffee  and  toast,  declined  the  dainties  pressed  upon  her 
with  scrupulous  courtesy,  and  presently,  excusing  her 
lack  of  appetite,  fled  away  to  her  room  and  wept. 

"  I  must  be  nervous  this  morning,"  she  said  to  herself 
smilingly,  as  she  dried  her  eyes  and  prepared  for  her 
customary  morning  ride.  On  going  down  stairs  she 
found  a  servant  in  waiting  with  her  horse  ready  saddled, 
who  said  :  "  Mornin',  Miss  Mollie.  Marse  Hesden  said 
ez  how  I  was  ter  tsll  yer  dat  he  was  dat  busy  dis  mornin' 


322  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

dat  he  couldn't  go  ter  ride  \vid  yer  to-day,  nohow.  I  vvuz 
ter  gib  yer  his  compliments,  ail  de  same,  an'  say  he 
hopes  yer'll  hev  a  pleasant  ride,  an'  he  wants  ter  see  yer 
when  yer  gits  back.  He's  powerful  sorry  he  can't  go." 
'  Tell  Mr.  Le  Moyne  it  is  not  a  matter  of  any  con 
sequence  at  all,  Charley,"  she  answered  pleasantly. 

"  Yer  couldn't  never  make  Marse  Hesden  b'lieve  dat 
ar,  no  way  in  de  world,"  said  Charles,  with  deft  flattery, 
as  he  lifted  her  into  the  saddle.     Then,  glancing  quickly 
around,  he  said  in  a  low,  earnest  voice  :  "  Hez  ye  heerd 
from  Red  Wing  lately,  Miss  Mollie  ?" 

"  Not  for  a  day  or  two.  Why  ?"  she  asked,  glancing 
quickly  down  at  him. 

"  Oh,  nuffin',  only  I  wuz  afeared  dar'd  been  some- 
thin'  bad  a  gwine  on  dar,  right  lately." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Charles?"  she  asked,  bending 
down  and  speaking  anxiously. 

"  Don't  say  nuffin'  'bout  it,  Miss  Mollie — dey  don't 
know  nuffin'  'bout  it  in  h'yer,"  nodding  toward  the 
house,  "  but  de  Ku  Kluckers  was  dar  las'  night." 

"  You  don't  mean  it,  Charles  ?" 

"  Dat's  what  I  hear,"  he  answered  doggedly. 

"  Anybody  hurt  ?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  don't  know  dat,  Miss  Mollie.     Dat's  all  I  hear— 
jes  dat  dey'd  been  dar." 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

THROUGH    A    CI.OUD-RIFT. 


IT  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that  Mollie  Ainslie  passed 
out  of  the  gate  and  rode  along  the  lane  toward  the  high 
way.  The  autumn  sun  shone  bright,  and  the  trees  were 


THROUGH  A  CLOUD-RIFT.  323 

just  beginning  to  put  on  the  gay  trappings  in  which 
they  are  wont  to  welcome  wintry  death.  Yet,  somehow, 
everything  seemed  suddenly  to  have  grown  dark  and  dull. 
Her  poor  weak  brain  was  overwhelmed  and  dazed  by 
the  incongruity  of  the  life  she  was  leaving  with  that  to 
which  she  was  going  back — for  she  had  no  hesitation  in 
deciding  as  to  the  course  she  ought  to  pursue. 

She  did  not  need  to  question  as  to  what  had  been  done 
or  suffered.  If  there  was  any  trouble,  actual  or  impend 
ing,  affecting  those  she  had  served,  her  place  was  with 
them.  They  would  look  to  her  for  guidance  and  coun 
sel.  She  would  not  fail  them.  She  did  not  once  think 
of  danger,  nor  did  she  dream  that  by  doing  as  she  pro 
posed  she  was  severing  herself  entirely  from  the  pleasant 
life  at  the  fine  old  country  seat  which  had  been  so  event 
ful. 

She  did,  indeed,  think  of  Hesden.  She  always 
thought  of  him  of  late.  Everything,  whether  of  joy  or 
of  sorrow,  seemed  somehow  connected  with  him.  She 
thought  of  him — not  as  going  away  from  him,  or  as  putting 
him  out  of  her  life,  but  as  deserving  his  approval  by  her 
act.  "  He  will  miss  me  when  he  finds  that  I  do  not  re 
turn.  Perhaps  he  will  be  alarmed,"  she  said  to  herself, 
as  she  cantered  easily  toward  the  ford.  "  But  then,  if  he 
hears  what  has  happened,  he  will  know  where  I  have 
gone  and  will  approve  my  going.  Perhaps  he  will  be 
afraid  for  me,  and  then  he  will — "  Her  heart  seemed  to 
stop  beating  !  All  its  bright  current  flew  into  her  face. 
The  boundless  beatitude  of  love  burst  on  her  all  at 
once !  She  had  obeyed  its  dictates  and  tasted  its  bliss 
for  days  and  weeks,  quite  unconscious  of  the  rap 
ture  which  filled  her  soul.  Now,  it  came  like  a  great 
wave  of  light  that  overspread  the  earth  and  covered  with 
a  halo  all  that  was  in  it. 


324  B KICKS  irn  -no  u  r  s  TRA  1 1 '. 

Ho\v  bright  upon  the  instant  was  everything  !  The 
sunshine  was  a  beating,  pulsing  ether  animated  with 
love  !  The  trees,  the  fields,  the  yellow-breasted  lark, 
pouring  forth  his  autumn  lay,  the  swallows,  glancing  in 
the  golden  sunshine  and  weaving  in  and  out  on  billowy 
wing  the  endless  dance  with  which  they  hie  them  south 
ward  ere  the  winter  comes — everything  she  saw  or  heard 
was  eloquent  with  look  and  tones  of  love  !  The  grand 
old  horse  that  carried  her  so  easily,  how  strange  and 
how  delightful  was  this  double  ownership,  which  yet  was 
only  one  !  Hers  ?  Hesden's  ?  Hesden's  because  hers, 
for — ah,  glowing  cheek  !  ah,  bounding  heart  !  how  sweet 
the  dear  confession,  breathed — nay  told  unspokenly — 
to  autumn  sky  and  air,  to  field  and  wood  and  bird 
and  beast,  to  nature's  boundless  heart — she.  was  but 
Hesden's  !  The  altar  and  the  idol  of  his  love  !  Oh, 
how  its  incense  thrilled  her  soul  and  intoxicated  every 
sense  !  There  was  no  doubt,  no  fear,  no  breath  of 
shame  !  He  would  come  and  ask,  and  she — would  give  ? 
No  !  no  !  no  !  She  could  not  give,  but  she  would  tell, 
with  word  and  look  and  swift  embrace,  how  she  had  given 
— ah  !  given  all — and  knew  it  not  !  Oh,  fairer  than  the 
opened  heaven  is  earth  illumined  with  love  ! 

As  she  dreamed,  her  horse's  swift  feet  consumed  the 
way.  She  reached  the  river — a  silver  billow  between 
emerald  banks,  to-day  !  Almost  unheedingly  she  crossed 
the  ford,  just  smiling,  rapt  in  her  vision,  as  memory 
brought  back  the  darkness  of  her  former  crossing  !  Then 
she  swept  on,  through  the  dark,  over-arching  pines,  their 
odor  mingling  with  the  incense  of  love  which  filled  her 
heart.  She  had  forgotten  Red  Wing  and  all  that  per 
tained  to  it.  The  new  song  her  lips  had  been  taught  to 
sing  had  made  thin  and  weak  every  melody  of  the  past. 
Shall  care  cumber  the  heart  of  the  bride  ?  She  knew 


THR 0 UGH  A  CLO UD  RIF T.  325 

vaguely  that  she  was  going  to  Red  Wing.  She  recog 
nized  the  road,  but  it  seemed  glorified  since  she 
travelled  it  before.  Once,  she  thought  she  heard  her 
name  called.  The  tone  was  full  of  beseeching.  She 
smiled,  for  she  thought  that  love  had  cheated  her,  and 
syllabled  the  cry  of  that  heart  which  would  not  be  still 
until  she  came  again.  She  did  not  see  the  dark,  plead 
ing  face  which  gazed  after  her  as  her  horse  bore  her 
swiftly  beyond  his  ken. 

On  and  on,  easily,  softly  !  She  knows  she  is  approach 
ing  her  journey's  end,  but  the  glamour  of  love  enthralls 
her  senses  yet.  The  last  valley  is  passed.  She  ascends 
the  last  hill.  Before  her  is  Red  Wing,  bright  and  peace 
ful  as  Paradise  before  the  spoiler  came.  She  has  for 
gotten  the  story  which  the  hostler  told.  The  sight  of  the 
little  village  but  heightens  her  rapture.  She  almost  greets 
it  with  a  shout,  as  she  gives  her  horse  the  rein  and  dashes 
down  the  little  street.  How  her  face  glows  !  The  wind 
toys  with  stray  tresses  of  her  hair  !  How  dull  and 
amazed  the  people  seem  whom  she  greets  so  gayly  !  Still 
on  !  Around  the  angle  of  the  wood  she  turns — and  comes 
upon  the  smouldering  church  ! 

Ah,  how  the  visions  melt  !  What  a  cry  of  agony  goes 
up  from  her  white  lips  !  How  pale  her  cheeks  grow  as 
she  drops  the  rein  from  her  nerveless  fingers  !  The  ob 
servant  horse  needs  no  words  to  check  his  swift  career. 
The  scene  of  desolation  stops  him  in  an  instant.  He 
stretches  out  his  head  and  looks  with  staring  eyes  upon 
the  ruin.  He  snuffs  with  distended  nostrils  the  smoke 
that  rises  from  the  burning. 

The  villagers  gather  around.  She  answers  every  in 
quiry  with  low  moans.  Gently  they  lead  her  horse  under 
the  shadow  of  the  great  oak  before  the  old  Ordinary. 
Very  tenderly  she  is  lifted  down  and  borne  to  the  large- 


326  BXICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

armed  rocker  on  the  porch,  which  the  weeping,  trembling 
old  "  mammy"  has  loaded  with  pillows  to  receive  her. 

All  day  long  she  heard  the  timid  tread  of  dusky  feet 
and  listened  to  the  tale  of  woe  and  fear.  Old  and  young, 
those  whom  she  had  counselled,  and  those  whom  she 
had  taught,  alike  sought  her  presence  and  advice.  Lu- 
gena  came,  and  showed  her  scarred  form  ;  brought  her 
beaten  children,  and  told  her  tale  of  sorrow.  The  past 
was  black  enough,  but  the  shadow  of  a  greater  fear  hung 
over  the  little  hamlet.  They  feared  for  themselves  and 
also  for  her.  They  begged  her  to  go  back  to  Mr.  Le 
Moyne's.  She  smiled  and  shook  her  head  with  a  soft 
light  in  her  eyes.  She  would  not  go  back  until  the  king 
came  and  entreated  her.  But  she  knew  that  would  be 
very  soon.  So  she  roused  herself  to  comfort  and  advise, 
and  when  the  sun  went  down,  she  was  once  more  the 
little  Mollie  Ainslie  of  the  Bankshire  hills,  only  fairer 
and  ruddier  and  sweeter  than  ever  before,  as  she  sat 
upon  the  porch  and  watched  with  dewy,  love-lit  eyes  the 
road  which  led  to  Mulberry  Hill. 

The  shadows  came.  The  night  fell  ;  the  stars  came 
out  ;  the  moon  arose — he  came  not.  Stealthy  footsteps 
came  and  went.  Faithful  hearts  whispered  words  of 
warning  with  trembling  lips.  She  did  not  fear.  Her 
heart  was  sick.  She  had  not  once  dreamed  that  Hesden 
would  fail  to  seek  her  out,  or  that  he  would  allow  her  to 
pass  one  hour  of  darkness  in  this  scene  of  horror.  She 
almost  began  to  wish  the  night  might  be  a  counterpart  of 
that  which  had  gone  before.  She  took  out  her  brother's 
heavy  revolver,  loaded  every  chamber,  laid  it  on  the  table 
beside  her  chair,  and  sat,  sleepless  but  dry-eyed,  until  the 
morning. 

The  days  went  by.  Hesden  did  not  come,  and  sent 
no  word.  He  was  but  five  miles  away;  he  knew  how 


A   GLAD  GOOD -BY.  327 

she  loved  him  ;  yet  the  grave  was  not  more  voiceless  ! 
She  hoped — a  little — even  after  that  first  night.  She 
pictured  possibilities  which  she  hoped  might  be  true. 
Then  the  tones  of  the  mother's  voice  came  back  to  her 
— the  unexplained  absence — the  unfulfilled  engagement 
— and  doubt  was  changed  to  certainty  !  She  did  not 
weep  or  moan  or  pine.  The  Yankee  girl  had  no  base 
metal  in  her  make.  She  folded  up  her  vision  of  love 
and  laid  it  away,  embalmed  in  the  fragrance  of  her  own 
purity,  in  the  inmost  recess  of  her  heart  of  hearts.  The 
rack  could  not  have  wrung  from  her  a  whisper  of  her 
one  day  in  Paradise.  She  was  simply  Mollie  Ainslie,  the 
teacher  of  the  colored  school  at  Red  Wing,  once  more  ; 
quiet,  cool,  and  practical,  giving  herself  day  by  day,  with 
increased  devotion,  to  the  people  whom  she  had  served 
so  faithfully  before  her  brief  translation. 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

A    GLAD    GOOD-BY. 

A  FEW  days  after  her  departure  from  Mulberry  Hill, 
Mollie  Ainslie  wrote  to  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  : 

"  MY  DEAR  MADAM  :  You  have  no  doubt  heard  of 
the  terrible  events  which  have  occurred  at  Red  Wing.  I 
had  an  intimation  of  trouble  just  as  I  set  out  on  my  ride, 
but  had  no  idea  of  the  horror  which  awaited  me  upon 
my  arrival  here,  made  all  the  more  fearful  by  contrast 
with  your  pleasant  home. 

"  I  cannot  at  such  a  time  leave  the  people  with  whom 
I  have  labored  so  long,  especially  as  their  only  other 
trusted  adviser,  the  preacher,  Eliab  Hill,  is  missing. 


328  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

With  the  utmost  exertion  we  have  been  able  to  learn 
nothing  of  him  or  of  Nimbus  since  the  night  of  the  fire. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  they  are  dead.  Of  course, 
there  is  great  excitement,  and  I  have  had  a  very  anxious 
time.  I  am  glad  to  say,  however,  that  my  health 
continues  to  improve.  I  left  some  articles  scattered 
about  in  the  room  I  occupied,  which  I  would  be  pleas 
ed  if  you  would  have  a  servant  collect  and  give  to  the 
bearer. 

"  With  the  best  wishes  for  the  happiness  of  yourself 
and  Mr.  Hesden,  and  with  pleasant  memories  of  your 
delightful  home,  I  remain, 

"  Yours  very  truly, 

"  MOLI.IE  AINSLIE." 

To  this  she  received  the  following  reply  : 

11  Miss  MOLLIE  AINSLIE  :  I  very  much  regret  the  un 
fortunate  events  which  occasioned  your  hasty  departure 
from  Mulberry  Hill.  It  is  greatly  to  be  hoped  that  all 
occasion  for  such  violence  will  soon  pass  away.  It  is  a 
great  calamity  that  the  colored  people  cannot  be  made  to 
see  that  their  old  masters  and  mistresses  are  their  best 
friends,  and  induced  to  follow  their  advice  and  leader 
ship,  instead  of  going  after  strangers  and  ignorant  per 
sons  of  their  own  color,  or  low-down  white  men,  who  only 
wish  to  use  them  for  their  own  advantage.  I  am  very 
sorry  for  Eliab  and  the  others,  but  I  must  say  I  think 
they  have  brought  it  all  on  themselves.  I  am  told  they 
have  been  mighty  impudent  and  obstreperous,  until  really 
the  people  in  the  neighborhood  did  not  feel  safe,  ex 
pecting  every  day  that  their  houses  or  barns  would  be 
burned  down,  or  their  wives  or  daughters  insulted,  or 
perhaps  worse,  by  the  lazy,  saucy  crowd  they  had  gath 
ered  about  them. 


A   CLAD  COOD-BY.  329 

"  Eliab  was  a  good  boy,  but  I  never  did  like  that 
fellow  Nimbus.  He  was  that  stubborn  and  headstrong, 
even  in  his  young  days,  that  1  can  believe  anything  of 
him.  Then  he  was  in  the  Yankee  army  during  the  war, 
you  know,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  is  a  desperate 
character.  I  learn  he  has  been  indicted  once  or  twice, 
and  the  general  belief  is  that  he  set  the  church  on  firer 
and,  with  a  crowd  of  his  understrappers,  fixed  up  to  re 
present  Ku  Klux,  attacked  his  own  house,  abused  hib 
wife  and  took  Eliab  off  and  killed  him,  in  order  to  make 
the  North  believe  that  the  people  of  Horsford  are  only 
a  set  of  savages,  and  so  get  the  Government  to  send  sol 
diers  here  to  carry  the  election,  in  order  that  a  filthy 
negro  and  a  low-down,  dirty,  no-account  poor-white 
man  may  ^represent  this  grand  old  county  in  the 
Legislature  again. 

"  I  declare,  Miss  Ainslie,  I  don't  see  how  you  en 
dure  such  things.  You  seemed  while  here  very  much 
of  a  lady,  for  one  in  your  sphere  of  life,  and  I  cannot 
understand  how  you  can  reconcile  it  with  your  conscience 
to  encourage  and  live  with  such  a  terrible  gang. 

"  My  son  has  been  very  busy  since  you  left.  He  did 
not  find  time  to  inquire  for  you  yesterday,  and  seemed 
annoyed  that  you  had  not  apprised  him  of  your  intention 
to  leave.  I  suppose  he  is  afraid  that  his  old  horse  might 
be  injured  if  there  should  be  more  trouble  at  Red  Wing. 
"  Yours  truly, 

"  HESTER  RICHARDS  LE  MOYNE." 

"  P.S. — I  understand  that  they  are  going  to  hunt  the 
fellow  Nimbus  with  dogs  to-morrow.  I  hope  they  will 
catch  him  and  hang  him  to  the  nearest  tree.  I  have  no 
doubt  he  killed  poor  Eliab,  and  did  all  the  rest  of  the 
bad  things  laid  to  his  charge.  He  is  a  desperate  negro, 


33°  B  RICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  I  don't  see  how  you  can  stand  up  for  him.  I  hope 
you  will  let  the  people  of  the  North  know  the  truth  of 
this  affair,  and  make  them  understand  that  Southern  gen 
tlemen  are  not  such  savages  and  brutes  as  they  are  repre 
sented." 

The  letter  .was  full  of  arrows  designed  to  pierce  her 
breast  ;  but  Mollie  Ainslie  did  not  feel  one  of  them. 
After  what  she  had  suffered,  no  ungenerous  flings  from 
such  a  source  could  cause  her  any  pain.  On  the  con 
trary,  it  was  an  object  of  interest  to  her,  in  that  it  dis 
closed  how  deep  down  in  the  heart  of  the  highest  and 
best,  as  well  as  the  lowest  and  meanest,  was  that  preju 
dice  which  had  originally  instigated  such  acts  as  had  been 
perpetrated  at  Red  Wing.  The  credulous  animosity 
displayed  by  this  woman  to  whom  she  had  looked  for 
sympathy  and  encouragement  in  what  she  deemed  a  holy 
work,  revealed  to  her  for  the  first  time  how  deep  and  im 
passable  was  the  channel  which  time  had  cut  between  the 
people  of  the  North  and  those  of  the  South. 

She  did  not  lose  her  respect  or  regard  for  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne.  She  did  not  even  see  that  any  \vord  which  had 
been  written  was  intended  to  stab  her,  as  a  woman.  She 
only  saw  that  the  prejudice-blinded  eyes  had  led  a  good, 
kind  heart  to  endorse  and  excuse  cruelty  and  outrage. 
The  letter  saddened  but  did  not  enrage  her.  She  saw 
and  pitied  the  pride  of  the  sick  lady  whom  she  had 
learned  to  love  in  fancy  too  well  to  regard  with  anger  on 
account  of  what  was  but  the  natural  result  of  her  life  and 
training. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

PUTTING    THIS  AND    THAT   TOGETHER. 

AFTER  Mollie  had  read  the  letter  of  Mrs.  Le  Moyne, 
it  struck  her  as  a  curious  thing  that  she  should  write  to 
her  of  the  hunt  which  was  to  be  made  after  Nimbus,  and 
the  great  excitement  which  there  was  in  regard  to  him. 
Knowing  that  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  and  Hesden  were  both 
kindly  disposed  toward  Eliab,  and  the  latter,  as  she  be 
lieved,  toward  Nimbus  also,  it  occurred  to  her  that  this 
might  be  intended  as  a  warning,  given  on  the  hypothesis 
that  those  parties  were  in  hiding  and  not  dead. 

At  the  same  time,  also,  it  flashed  upon  her  mind  that 
Lugena  had  not  seemed  so  utterly  cast  down  as  might 
naturally  be  expected  of  a  widow  so  suddenly  and  sadly 
bereaved.  She  knew  something  of  the  secretive  powers 
of  the  colored  race.  She  knew  that  in  the  old  slave 
times  one  of  the  men  now  living  in  the  little  village  had 
remained  a  hidden  runaway  for  months,  within  five  miles 
of  his  master's  house,  only  his  wife  knowing  his  hiding- 
place.  She  knew  how  thousands  of  these  people  had 
been  faithful  to  our  soldiers  escaping  from  Confederate 
prisons  during  the  war,  and  she  felt  that  a  secret  affect 
ing  their  own  liberty,  or  the  liberty  of  one  acting  or 
suffering  in  their  behalf,  might  be  given  into  the  keeping 
of  the  whole  race  without  danger  of  revelation.  She 
remembered  that  amid  all  the  clamorous  grief  of  others, 
while  Lugena  had  mourned  and  wept  over  the  burning 
of  the  church  and  the  scenes  of  blood  and  horror,  she 
had  exhibited  little  of  that  poignant  and  overwhelming 
grief  or  unappeasable  anger  which  she  would  have  ex 
pected,  under  the  circumstances,  from  one  of  her  tern- 


33 2  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

perament.  She  concluded,  therefore,  that  the  woman 
might  have  some  knowledge  in  regard  to  the  fate  of  her 
husband,  Eliab,  and  Berry,  which  she  had  not  deemed  it 
prudent  to  reveal.  With  this  thought  in  mind,  she  sent 
for  Lugena  and  asked  if  she  had  heard  that  they  were 
going  to  hunt  for  her  husband  with  dogs. 

'Yes,  Miss  Mollie,  I'se  heerd  on't,"  was  the  reply, 
"  but  nebber  you  mind.  Ef  Nimbus  is  alive,  dey'll  neb- 
ber  git  him  in  no  sech  way  ez  dat,  an'  dey  knows  it. 
'Sides  dat,  it's  tree  days  ago,  an'  Nimbus  ain't  no  sech 
fool  ez  ter  stay  round  dat  long,  jes  ter  be  cotched  now. 
I'se  glad  ter  hear  it,  dough,  kase  it  shows  ter  me  dat  dey 
hain't  killed  him,  but  wants  ter  skeer  him  off,  an'  git 
him  outen  de  kentry.  De  sheriff — not  de  high-sheriff, 
but  one  ob  his  understrappers — wuz  up  ter  our  house 
to-day,  a-purtendin'  ter  hunt  alter  Nimbus.  I  didn't 
put  no  reliance  in  dat,  but  somehow  I  can't  make  out 
cla'r  how  dey  could  hev  got  away  with  him  an'  Berry 
an'  'Liab,  all  on  'em,  atter  de  fight  h'yer,  an'  not  left 
no  trace  nor  sign  on'  em  nowhar. 

"  Now,  I  tell  yer  what's  my  notion,  Miss  Mollie," 
she  added,  approaching  closer,  and  speaking  in  a  whis 
per  ;  "  I'se  done  a  heap  o*  tinkin'  on  dis  yer  matter, 
an'  dis  is  de  way  I'se  done  figgered  it  out.  I  don't  keer 
ter  let  on  'bout  it,  an'  mebbe  you  kin  see  furder  inter  it 
nor  I  kin,  but  I'se  jes  made  up  my  min'  dat  Nimbus  is 
all  right  somewhars.  I  don't  know  whar,  but  it's  some- 
whar  not  fur  from  'Liab — dat  yer  may  be  shore  on, 
honey.  Now,  yer  see,  Miss  Mollie,  dar's  two  or  tree 
tings  makes  me  tink  so.  In  de  fus'  place,  yer  know,  I 
see  dat  feller,  Berry,  atter  all  dis  ting  wuz  ober,  an' 
talked  wid  him  an'  told  him  dat  Nimbus  lef  all  right, 
an'  dat  he  tuk  'Liab  wid  him,  an'  dat  Bre'er  'Liab  wuz 
mighty  bad  hurt.  Wai,  atter  I  told  him  dat,  an'  he'd 


PUTTING  THIS  AND   THAT  TOGETHER.      333 

helped  me  hunt  up  de  chillens  dat  wtiz  scattered  in  de 
co'n,  an'  'bout  one  place  an'  anudder,  Berry  he  'Hows 
dat  he'll  go  an'  try  ter  fin'  Nimbus  an'  'Liab.  So  he 
goes  off  fru  de  co'n  wid  dat  ar  won'ful  gun  dat  jes  keeps 
on  a-shootin'  widout  ary  load. 

"  Atter  a  while  I  heahs  hirnoberin  de  woods  a-whistlin' 
an'  a-carryin'  on  like  a  mockin'-bird,  ez  you'se  heerd  de 
quar  critter  du  many  a  time."  Mollie  nodded  affirma 
tively,,  and  Lugena  went  on  :  "I  couldn't  help  but  laugh 
den,  dough  I  wuz  nigh  about  skeered  ter  death,  ter  tink 
what  a  mighty  cute  trick  it  wuz.  I  knowed  he  wuz  a 
callin'  Nimbus  an'  dat  Nimbus  'ud  know  it,  tu,  jest  ez 
soon  ez  he  heerd  it  ;  but  yer  know  ennybody  dat  hadn't 
heerd  it  over  an  offen,  wouldn't  nebber  tink  dat  it 
warn't  a  mocker  waked  up  by  de  light,  or  jes  mockin'  a 
cat-bird  an'  rain-crow,  an'  de  like,  in  his  dreams,  ez  dey 
say  dey  does  when  de  moon  shines,  yer  know." 

Mollie  smiled  at  the  quaint  conceit,  so  well  justified  by 
f.he  fact  she  had  herself  often  observed.  Lugena  con 
tinued  : 

"  I  tell  yer,  Miss  Mollie,  dat  ar  Berry's  a  right  cute 
nigga,  fer  all  dey  say  'bout  him.  He  ain't  stiddy,  like 
Nimbus,  yer  know,  ner  pious  like  'Liab — dat  is  not  ter 
hurt,  yer  know — but  he  sartin  hab  got  a  heap  ob  sense, 
fer  all  dat." 

"  It  was  certainly  a  very  shrewd  thing,  but  I  don't  see 
what  it  has  to  do  with  the  fate  of  Nimbus,"  said  Mollie. 
"  I  don't  wish  to  seem  to  discourage  you,  but  I  am  quite 
certain,  myself,  that  we  shall  never  see  Nimbus  or  Eliab 
again." 

"  Oh,  yer  can't  discourage  ;;/<?,  Miss  Mollie,"  answered 
the  colored  woman  bravely.  "  I  jes  knows,  er  ez  good 
ez  knows,  dat  Nimbus  is  all  right  yit  awhile.  Now  I 
tells  yer,  honey,  what  dis  yer's  got  ter  du  wid  it.  Yer 


33 2  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

perament.  She  concluded,  therefore,  that  the  woman 
might  have  some  knowledge  in  regard  to  the  fate  of  her 
husband,  Eliab,  and  Berry,  which  she  had  not  deemed  it 
prudent  to  reveal.  With  this  thought  in  mind,  she  sent 
for  Lugena  and  asked  if  she  had  heard  that  they  were 
going  to  hunt  for  her  husband  with  dogs. 

44  Yes,  Miss  Mollie,  I'se  heerd  on't,"  was  the  reply, 
"  but  nebber  you  mind.  Ef  Nimbus  is  alive,  dey'll  neb- 
ber  git  him  in  no  sech  way  ez  dat,  an'  dey  knows  it. 
'Sides  dat,  it's  tree  days  ago,  an'  Nimbus  ain't  no  sech 
fool  ez  ter  stay  round  dat  long,  jes  ter  be  cotched  now. 
I'se  glad  ter  hear  it,  dough,  kase  it  shows  ter  me  dat  dey 
hain't  killed  him,  but  wants  ter  skeer  him  off,  an'  git 
him  outen  de  kentry.  De  sheriff — not  de  high-sheriff, 
but  one  ob  his  understrappers — wuz  up  ter  our  house 
to-day,  a-purtendin'  ter  hunt  atter  Nimbus.  I  didn't 
put  no  reliance  in  dat,  but  somehow  I  can't  make  out 
cla'r  how  dey  could  hev  got  away  with  him  an'  Berry 
an'  'Liab,  all  on  'em,  atter  de  fight  h'yer,  an'  not  left 
no  trace  nor  sign  on'  em  nowhar. 

44  Now,  I  tell  yer  what's  my  notion,  Miss  Mollie," 
she  added,  approaching  closer,  and  speaking  in  a  whis 
per  ;  4<  I'se  done  a  heap  o'  tinkin'  on  dis  yer  matter, 
an'  dis  is  de  way  I'se  done  figgered  it  out.  I  don't  keer 
ter  let  on  'bout  it,  an'  mebbe  you  kin  see  furder  inter  it 
nor  I  kin,  but  I'se  jes  made  up  my  min'  dat  Nimbus  is 
all  right  somewhars.  I  don't  know  whar,  but  it's  some- 
whar  not  fur  from  'Liab — dat  yer  may  be  shore  on, 
honey.  Now,  yer  see,  Miss  Mollie,  dar's  two  or  tree 
tings  makes  me  tink  so.  In  de  fus'  place,  yer  know,  I 
see  dat  feller,  Berry,  atter  all  dis  ting  wuz  ober,  an' 
talked  wid  him  an'  told  him  dat  Nimbus  lef  all  right, 
an'  dat  he  tuk  'Liab  wid  him,  an'  dat  Bre'er  'Liab  wuz 
mighty  bad  hurt.  Wai,  atter  I  told  him  dat,  an'  he'd 


PUTTING  THIS  AND   THAT  TOGETHER.      333 

helped  me  hunt  up  de  chillens  dat  wuz  scattered  in  de 
co'n,  an'  'bout  one  place  an'  anudder,  Berry  he  'Hows 
dat  he'll  go  an'  try  ter  fin'  Nimbus  an'  'Liab.  So  he 
goes  off  frti  de  co'n  \vid  dat  ar  won'ful  gun  dat  jes  keeps 
on  a-shootin'  widout  ary  load. 

"  Atter  a  while  I  heahs  hirnoberin  de  woods  a-whistlin' 
an'  a-carryin'  on  like  a  mockin'-bird,  ez  you'se  heerd  de 
quar  critter  du  many  a  time. "  Mollie  nodded  affirma 
tively,,  and  Lugena  went  on  :  "I  couldn't  help  but  laugh 
den,  dough  I  wuz  nigh  about  skeered  ter  death,  ter  tink 
what  a  mighty  cute  trick  it  wuz.  I  knowed  he  wuz  a 
callin'  Nimbus  an'  dat  Nimbus  'ud  know  it,  tu,  jest  ez 
soon  ez  he  heerd  it  ;  but  yer  know  ennybody  dat  hadn't 
heerd  it  over  an  off  en,  wouldn't  nebber  tink  dat  it 
warn't  a  mocker  waked  up  by  de  light,  or  jes  mockin'  a 
cat-bird  an'  rain-crow,  an'  de  like,  in  his  dreams,  ez  dey 
say  dey  does  when  de  moon  shines,  yer  know." 

Mollie  smiled  at  the  quaint  conceit,  so  well  justified  by 
f.he  fact  she  had  herself  often  observed.  Lugena  con 
tinued  : 

"  I  tell  yer,  Miss  Mollie,  dat  ar  Berry's  a  right  cute 
nigga,  fer  all  dey  say  'bout  him.  He  ain't  stiddy,  like 
Nimbus,  yer  know,  ner  pious  like  'Liab — dat  is  not  ter 
hurt,  yer  know — but  he  sartin  hab  got  a  heap  ob  sense, 
fer  all  dat." 

"  It  was  certainly  a  very  shrewd  thing,  but  I  don't  see 
what  it  has  to  do  with  the  fate  of  Nimbus, ' '  said  Mollie. 
*'  I  don't  wish  to  seem  to  discourage  you,  but  I  am  quite 
certain,  myself,  that  we  shall  never  see  Nimbus  or  Eliab 
again." 

"  Oh,  yer  can't  discourage  me.  Miss  Mollie,"  answered 
the  colored  woman  bravely.  "  I  jes  knows,  er  ez  good 
ez  knows,  dat  Nimbus  is  all  right  yit  awhile.  Now  I 
tells  yer,  honey,  what  dis  yer '5  got  ter  du  wid  it.  Yer 


336  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  I  confess  I  do  not,"  answered  the  teacher. 

"  No?  Wai,  whar  yer  'spose  dat  'backer  gone  ter, 
hey?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.     Where  do  you  think  ?" 

"What  I  tink  become  ob  dat  'backer?  Wai,  Miss 
Mollie,  I  tink  Nimbus  an*  Berry  put  dat  'backer  in  dat 
carryall,  an'  den  put  Bre'er  'Liab  in  on  dat  'backer,  an'  jes 
druv  off  somewhar — 'Gena  don't  know  whar,  but  dat 
'backer  '11  take  'em  a  long  way  wid  dat  ar  mule  an' 
carryall.  It's  all  right,  Miss  Mollie,  it's  all  right  wid 
Nimbus.  'Gena  ain't  feared.  She  knows  her  ole  man 
too  well  fer  dat  ! 

'  Yer  know  he  runned  away  once  afo'  in  de  ole  slave 
times.  He  didn't  say  nary  word  ter  me  'bout  gwine  ober 
ter  de  Yanks,  an'  de  folks  all  tole  me  dat  I  nebber'd  see 
him  no  mo'.  But  I  knowed  Nimbus,  an'  shore  'nough, 
atter  'bout  two  year,  back  he  come  !  An'  dat's  de  way 
it'll  be  dis  time — atter  de  trouble' sober,  he'll  come  back. 
But  dat  ain't  what  worries  me  now,  Miss  Mollie, "  con 
tinued  Lugena.  "  Co'se  I'd  like  ter  know  jes  whar 
Nimbus  is,  but  I  know  he's  all  right.  I'se  a  heap  fear- 
der  'bout  Bre'er  'Liab,  fer  I  'How  it's  jes  which  an' 
t'other  ef  we  ever  sees  him  again.  But  what  troubles 
me  now,  Miss  Mollie,  is  'bout  myseff." 

"  About  yourself  ?"  asked  Mollie,  in  surprise. 

'  'Bout  me  an'  my  chillens,  Miss  Mollie,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Why,  how  is  that,  'Gena  ?" 

"  Wai  yer  see,  dar's  dat  ar  'tachment  matter.  I  don't 
understan'  it,  nohow." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  said  Mollie. 

"  P'raps  yer  could  make  out  sunthin'  'bout  it  from  dese 
yer,"  said  the  colored  woman,  drawing  a  mass  of  crum 
pled  papers  from  her  pocket. 


PUTTING  THIS  AND   THAT  TOGETHER.      337 

Mollie  smoothed  them  out  upon  the  table  beside  her, 
and  began  her  examination  by  reading  the  endorsements. 
The  first  was  entitled,  "  Peyton  Winburn  v.  Nimbus  DCS- 
mit,  et  al.  Action  for  the  recovery  of  real  estate.  Sum 
mons.  ' '  The  next  was  endorsed,  ' '  Copy  of  Complaint, 
and  another,  ' 4  Affidavit  and  Order  of  Attachment  against 
Non-Resident  or  Absconding  Debtor. ' ' 

"  What's  dat,  Miss  Mollie?"  asked  Lugena,  eagerly, 
as  the  last  title  was  read  "  Dat's  what  dat  ar  sheriff 
man  said  my  Nimbus  was — a  non — non — what,  Miss 
Mollie  ?  I  tole  him  'twan't  no  sech  ting  ;  but  la  sakes  ! 
I  didn't  know  nothing  in  de  worl'  'bout  it.  I  jes  'llowed 
dat  'twas  sunthin'  mighty  mean,  an'  I  knowed  dat  I 
couldn't  be  very  fur  wrong  nohow,  ef  I  jes  contraried 
ebbery  word  what  he  said.  What  does  it  mean,  Miss 
Mollie?" 

"  It  just  means,"  said  Mollc,  "  that  Nimbus  owes 
somebody — this  Mr.  Winburn,  I  judge,  and — 

"  It's  a  lie  !  A  clar,  straight-out  lie  !"  interrupted 
Lugena.  "  Nimbus  don't  o\ve  nobody  nary  cent — not 
nary  cent,  Miss  Mollie  !  Tole  me  dat  hisself  jest  a  little 
time  ago." 

'  Yes,  but  this  man  claims  he  owes  him — swears  so,  in 
fact  ;  and  that  he  has  run  away  or  hidden  to  keep  from 
paying  it,"  said  Mollie.  "  He  swears  he  is  anon-resident 
— don't  live  here,  you  know  ;  lives  out  of  the  State 
somewhere." 

"An'  Peyton  Winburn  svvars  ter  dat?"  asked  the 
woman,  eagerly. 

'  Yes,  certainly." 

"  Didn't  I  tell  yer  dat  Nimbus  was  safe,  Miss  Mollie  ?" 
she  cried,  springing  from  her  chair.  "  Don't  yer  see 
how  dey  cotch  derselves  ?  Ef  der's  ennybody  on  de 
green  yairth  dat  knows  all  'bout  dis  Ku  Kluckin'  it's 


338  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Peyton  Winburn,  and  dat  ar  Sheriff  Gleason.  Now,  don't 
yer  know  dat  ef  he  was  dead  dey  wouldn't  be  a  sum'  on 
him  an'  a  swearin'  he'd  run  away  ?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  but  it  would  seem  so,"  re 
sponded  Mollie. 

"  Seem  so  !  it's  boun'  ter  be  so,  honey,  "said  the  col 
ored  woman,  positively. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mollie.  "  It's  a 
matter  I  don't  understand.  I  think  I  had  better  take 
these  papers  over  to  Captain  Pardee,  and  see  what  ought 
to  be  done  about  them.  I  am  afraid  there  is  an  attempt 
to  rob  you  of  all  your  husband  has  acquired,  while  he  is 
away." 

J*  Dat's  what  I'se  af eared  on,"  said  the  other.  "  An' 
it  wuz  what  Nimbus  'spected  from  de  fust  ob  dis  h'yer 
Ku  Kluck  matter.  Dear  me,  what  ebber  will  I  do,  I 
dunno — I  dunno  !"  The  poor  woman  threw  her  apron 
over  her  head  and  began  to  weep. 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  'Gena,"  said  Mollie,  sooth 
ingly.  "  I'll  stand  by  you  and  get 'Mr.  Pardee  to  look 
after  the  matter  for  you." 

"  T'ank  ye,  Miss  Mollie,  t'ank  ye.  But  I'se  afeared 
it  won't  do  no  good.  Dey's  boun'  ter  break  us  up,  an' 
dey'll  do  it,  sooner  or  later  !  It's  all  of  a  piece — a  Ku 
Kluckin'  by  night,  and  a-suin'  by  day.  'Tain't  no  use, 
t'ain't  no  use  !  Dey'll  hab  dere  will  fust  er  last,  one 
way  er  anudder,  shore  !" 

Without  uncovering  her  head,  the  sobbing  woman 
turned  and  walked  out  of  the  room,  across  the  porch  and 
down  the  path  to  the  gate. 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it  !"  said  the  little  Yankee  woman, 
as  she  smoothed  down  her  hair,  shut  her  mouth  close, 
and  turned  to  make  a  more  thorough  perusal  of  the 
papers  Lugena  had  left  with  her.  Hardly  had  she 


PUTTING  THIS  AND   THAT  TOGETHER.      339 

finished  when  she  was  astonished  by  Lugena's  rushing 
into  the  room  and  exclaiming,  as  she  threw  herself  on 
her  knees  : 

"  Oh,  Miss  Mollie,  I  done  forgot — I  was  dat  ar  flus 
tered  'bout  de  'tachment  an'  de  like,  dat  I  done  forgot 
what  I  want  ter  tell  yer  most  ob  all.  Yer  know,  Miss 
Mollie,  dem  men  dat  got  hurt  dat  ar  night — de  Kti 
Kluckers,  two  on  'em,  one  I  'How,  killed  out-an'-out,  an' 
de  todder  dat  bad  cut — oh,  my  God  !"  she  cried  with  a 
shudder,  "  I  nebber  see  de  likes — no  nebber,  Miss  Mol 
lie.  All  down  his  face — from  his  forehead  ter  his  chin, 
an'  dat  too — yes,  an'  his  breast-bone,  too — looked  like 
dat  wuz  all  split  open  an'  a-bleedin'  !  Oh,  it  war  horri 
ble,  horrible,  Miss  Mollie  !" 

The  woman  buried  her  face  in  the  teacher's  lap  as  if 
she  would  shut  out  the  fearful  spectacle. 

'  There,  there,"  said  Mollie,  soothingly,  as  she  placed 
a  hand  upon  her  head.  "  You  must  not  think  of  it. 
You  must  try  and  forget  the  horrors  of  that  night." 

"  Don't  yer  know,  Miss  Mollie,  dat  dem  Ku  Kluckers 
ain't  a-g\vine  ter  let  de  one  ez  done  dat  lib  roun'  h'yer, 
ner  ennywhar  else  dat  dey  can  come  at  'em,  world  wid- 
out end  ?  ' 

"  Well,  I  thought  you  were  sure  that  Nimbus  was 
safe?" 

"  Nimbus  ?"  said  the  woman  in  surprise,  uncovering 
her  face  and  looking  up.  "  Nimbus  ?  'Twan't  him, 
Miss  Mollie,  'twan't  him.  I  'Hows  it  mout  hev  been 
him  dat  hurt  de  one  dat  'peared  ter  hev  been  killed 
straight  out  ;  but  it  was  me  dat  cut  de  odder  one,  Miss 
Mollie." 

'  You  ?"  cried  Mollie,  in  surprise,  instinctively  draw 
ing  back.  '  You  ?" 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Lugena,  humbly,  recognizing  the  re- 


34°  B KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

pulse.  "  Me — wid  de  axe  !  I  hope  yer  don't  fault  me 
fer  it,  Miss  Mollie." 

"  Blame  you  ?  no  indeed,  'Gena  !"  was  the  reply. 
"  Only  it  startled  me  to  hear  you  say  so.  You  did  en 
tirely  right  to  defend  yourself  and  Nimbus.  You  should 
not  let  that  trouble  you  for  a  moment." 

"  No,  Miss  Mollie,  but  don't  yer  know  dat  de  Ku 
Kluckers  ain't  a-gwine  ter  fe^git  it  ?" 

"  Heavens  !"  said  the  Yankee  girl,  springing  up  from 
her  chair  in  uncontrollable  excitement.  '  You  don't 
think  they  would  hurt  you — a  woman  ?" 

"  Dat  didn't  save  me  from  bein'  stripped  an'  beat,  did 
it?" 

"  Too  true,  too  true  !"  moaned  the  teacher,  as  she 
walked  back  and  forth  wringing  her  hands.  "  Poor 
child  !  What  can  you  do  ? — what  can  you  do  ?" 

"  Dat's  what  I  want  ter  know,  Miss  Mollie,"  said  the 
woman.  "  I  dassent  sleep  ter  home  at  night,  an'  don't 
feel  safe  ary  hour  in  de  day.  Dem  folks  won't  fergit, 
an'  'Gena  won't  nebber  be  safe  ennywhar  dat  dey  kin 
come,  night  ner  day.  What  will  I  do,  Miss  Mollie,  what 
will  I  do  ?  Yer  knows  Nimbus  '11  'llo\v  fer  'Gena  ter 
take  keer  ob  herself  an'  de  chillen  an'  de  plantation,  till 
he  comes  back,  er  sends  fer  me,  an'  I  dassent  stay, 
not  'nudder  day,  Miss  Mollie  !  What'll  I  do  ?  What'll 
I  do?' 

There  was  silence  in  the  little  room  for  a  few  moments, 
as  the  young  teacher  walked  back  and  forth  across  the 
floor,  and  the  colored  woman  sat  and  gazed  in  stupid 
hopelessness  up  into  her  face.  Presently  she  stopped, 
and,  looking  down  upon  Lugena,  said  with  impetuous 
fervor  : 

"  You  shall  not  stay,  Lugena  !  You  shall  not  stay  ! 
Can  you  stand  it  a  few  nights  more  ?" 


ANOTHER    OX  GORED.  34 1 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  kin  stan'  it,  'cause  I'se  got  ter.  I'se  been 
sleepin'  in  de  woods  ebber  sence,  an'  kin  keep  on  at  it  ; 
but  I  knows  whar  it'll  end,  an'  so  der  you,  Miss  Mollie." 

"  No,  it  shall  not,  'Gena.  You  are  right.  It  is  not 
safe  for  you  to  stay.  Just  hide  yourself  a  few  nights 
more,  till  I  can  look  after  things  for  you  here,  and  I  will 
take  you  away  to  the  North,  where  there  are  no  Ku 

Kiux.r 

"  Yer  don't  mean  it,  Miss  Mollie  !" 

"  Indeed  I  do." 

"  An'  de  chillen  ?" 

"  They  shall  go  too." 

"  God  bress  yer,  Miss  Mollie  !     God  bress  yer  !" 

With  moans  and  sobs,  the  torrent  of  her  tears  burst 
forth,  as  the  poor  woman  fell  prone  upon  the  floor,  and 
catching  the  hem  of  the  teacher's  robe,  kissed  it  again 
and  again,  in  a  transport  of  joy. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

ANOTHER     OX     GORED. 

THERE  was  a  caller  who  begged  to  see  Mr.  Le  Moyne 
for  a  few  minutes.  Descending  to  the  sitting-room, 
Hesden  found  there  Mr.  Jordan  Jackson,  who  was  the 
white  candidate  for  the  Legislature  upon  the  same  ticket 
with  a  colored  man  who  had  left  the  county  in  fright 
immediately  after  the  raid  upon  Red  Wing.  Hesden  was 
somewhat  surprised  at  this  call,  for  although  he  had 
known  Mr.  Jackson  from  boyhood,  yet  there  had  never 
been  more  than  a  passing  acquaintance  between  them.  It 
is  true,  Mr  Jackson  was  a  neighbor,  living  only  two  or 


342  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

three  miles  from  Mulberry  Hill  ;  but  he  belonged  to  such 
an  entirely  different  class  of  society  that  their  knowledge 
of  each  other  had  never  ripened  into  anything  like 
familiarity. 

Mr.  Jackson  was  what  used  to  be  termed  a  poor  man. 
He  and  his  father  before  him,  as  Hesden  knew,  had  lived 
on  a  little,  poor  plantation,  surrounded  by  wealthy  neigh 
bors.  They  owned  no  slaves,  and  lived  scantily  on  the 
products  of  the  farm  worked  by  themselves.  The  pres 
ent  occupant  was  about  Hesden'sown  age.  There  being 
no  free  schools  in  that  county,  and  his  father  having  been 
unable,  perhaps  not  even  desiring,  to  educate  him 
otherwise,  he  had  grown  up  almost  entirely  illiterate. 
He  had  learned  to  sign  his  name,  and  only  by  strenuous 
exertions,  after  his  arrival  at  manhood,  had  become  able, 
with  difficulty,  to  spell  out  words  from  the  printed  page 
and  to  write  an  ordinary  letter  in  strangely-tangled  hiero 
glyphics,  in  a  spelling  which  would  do  credit  to  a  pho 
netic  reformer.  He  had  entered  the  army,  probably  be 
cause  he  could  not  do  otherwise,  and  being  of  stahvait 
build,  and  having  great  endurance  and  native  courage, 
before  the  struggle  was  over  had  risen,  despite  his  dis 
advantages  of  birth  and  education,  to  a  lieutenancy. 

This  experience  had  been  of  advantage  to  him  in  more 
ways  than  one.  Chief  among  these  had  been  the  open 
ing  of  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  he  himself,  although  a 
poor  man,  and  the  scion  of  a  poor  family,  was,  in  all  the 
manly  requisites  that  go  to  make  up  a  soldier,  always  the 
equal,  and  very  often  the  superior,  of  his  aristocratic 
neighbors.  Little  by  little,  the  self-respect  which  had 
been  ground  out  of  him  and  his  family  by  generations  of 
that  condition  of  inferiority  which  the  common-liver,  the 
self-helper  of  the  South,  was  forced  to  endure  under  the 
old  slave  regime,  began  to  grow  up  in  his  heart.  He  be- 


ANOTHER   OX  GORED.  343 

gan  to  feel  himself  a  man,  and  prized  the  rank-marks  on 
his  collar  as  the  certificate  and  endorsement  of  his  man 
hood.  As  this  feeling  developed,  he  began  to  consider 
the  relations  between  himself,  his  family,  and  others  like 
them,  and  the  rich  neighbors  by  whom  they  were  sur 
rounded  and  looked  down  upon.  And  more  and  more, 
as  he  did  so,  the  feeling  grew  upon  him  that  he  and  his 
class  had  been  wronged,  cheated — "put  upon,"  he 
phrased  it — in  all  the  past.  They  had  been  the  "  chink 
ing"  between  the  "  mud  "  of  slavery  and  the  "  house- 
logs"  of  aristocracy  in  the  social  structure  of  the  South — 
a  little  better  than  the  mud  because  of  the  same  grain  and 
nature  as  the  logs  ;  but  useless  and  nameless  except  as  in 
relation  to  both.  He  felt  the  bitter  truth  of  that  sting 
ing  aphorism  which  was  current  among  the  privates  of 
the  Confederate  army,  which  characterized  the  war  of 
Rebellion  as  "  the  poor  man's  war  and  the  rich  man's 
fight" 

So,  when  the  war  was  over,  Lieutenant  Jordan  Jackson 
did  not  return  easily  and  contentedly  to  the  niche  in  the 
social  life  of  his  native  region  to  which  he  had  been  born 
and  bred.  He  found  the  habit  of  leadership  and  com 
mand  very  pleasant,  and  he  determined  that  he  would 
rise  in  the  scale  of  Horsford  society  as  he  had  risen  in 
the  army,  simply  because  he  was  brave  and  strong.  He 
knew  that  to  do  this  he  must  acquire  wealth,  and  looking 
about,  he  saw  opportunities  open  before  him  which 
others  had  not  noticed.  Almost  before  the  smoke  of 
battle  had  cleared  away,  Jordan  Jackson  had  opened 
trade  with  the  invaders,  and  had  made  himself  a  prime 
favorite  in  the  Federal  camps.  He  coined  money  in 
those  days  of  transition.  Fortunately,  he  had  been  too 
poor  to  be  in  debt  when  the  war  broke  out.  He  was  in 
dependently  poor,  because  beyond  the  range  of  credit. 


344  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

He  had  lost  nothing,  for  he  had  nothing  but  the  few 
poor  acres  of  his  homestead  to  lose. 

So  he  started  fair,  and  before  the  period  of  reconstruc 
tion  began  he  had  by  thrifty  management  accumulated 
quite  a  competency.  He  had  bought  several  plantations 
whose  aristocratic  owners  could  no  longer  keep  their  grip 
upon  half-worked  lands,  had  opened  a  little  store,  and 
monopolized  a  considerable  trade.  Looking  at  affairs  as 
they  stood  at  that  time,  Jordan  Jackson  said  to  himself 
that  the  opportunity  for  him  and  his  class  had  come. 
He  had  a  profound  respect  for  the  power  and  authority 
of  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  because  it  had 
put  down  the  Rebellion.  He  had  been  two  or  three 
times  at  the  North,  and  was  astounded  at  its  collective 
greatness.  He  said  that  the  colored  man  and  the  poor- 
whites  of  the  South  ought  to  put  themselves  on  the  side 
of  this  great,  busy  North,  which  had  opened  the  way  of 
liberty  and  progress  before  them,  and  establish  free 
schools  and  free  thought  and  free  labor  in  the  fair, 
crippled,  South-land.  He  thought  he  saw  a  great  and 
fair  future  looming  up  before  his  country.  He  freely  gave 
expression  to  these  ideas,  and,  as  he  traded  very  largely 
with  the  colored  people,  soon  came  to  be  regarded  by 
them  as  a  leader,  and  by  "  the  good  people  of  Horsford  " 
as  a  low-down  white  nigger,  for  whom  no  epithet  was  too 
vile. 

Nevertheless,  he  grew  in  wealth,  for  he  attended  to  his 
business  himself,  early  and  late.  He  answered  raillery 
with  raillery,  curses  with  cursing,  and  abuse  with  defi 
ance.  He  was  elected  to  conventions  and  Legislatures, 
where  he  did  many  foolish,  some  bad,  and  a  few  wise 
things  in  the  way  of  legislation.  ,  He  knew  what  he 
wanted — it  was  light,  liberty,  education,  and  a  "  fair 
hack  "  for  all  men.  How  to  get  it  he  did  not  know. 


ANOTHER    OX   GORED.  345 

He  had  been  warned  a  thousand  times  that  he  must 
abandon  this  way  of  life.  The  natural  rulers  of  the 
county  felt  that  if  they  could  neutralize  his  influence  and 
that  which  went  out  from  Red  Wing,  they  could  prevent 
the  exercise  of  ballatorial  power  by  a  considerable  por 
tion  of  the  majority,  and  by  that  means  "  redeem"  the 
county. 

They  did  not  wish  to  hurt  Jordan  Jackson.  He  was 
a  good  enough  man.  His  father  had  been  an  honest 
man,  and  an  old  citizen.  Nobody  knew  a  word  against 
his  wife  or  her  family,  except  that  they  had  been  poor. 
The  people  who  had  given  their  hearts  to  the  Confed 
erate  cause,  remembered  too,  at  first,  his  gallant  service  ; 
but  that  had  all  been  wiped  out  from  their  minds  by  his 
subsequent  "  treachery."  Even  after  the  attack  on  Red 
Wing,  he  had  been  warned  by  his  friends  to  desist. 

One  morning,  he  had  found  on  the  door  of  his  store  a 
paper  containing  the  following  words,  written,  inside  a 
little  sketch  of  a  coffin  : 


He  had  answered  this  by  a  defiant,  ill-spelled  notice, 
pasted  just  beside  it,  in  which  he  announced  himself  as 
always  ready  to  meet  any  crowd  of  "cowards  and  vil 
lains  who  were  ashamed  of  their  own  faces,  at  any  time, 
night  or  day."  His  card  was  English  prose  of  a  most 


346  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

vigorous  type,  interspersed  with  so  much  of  illiterate  pro 
fanity  as  to  satisfy  any  good  citizen  that  the  best  people 
of  Horsford  were  quite  right  in  regarding  him  as  a  most 
desperate  and  dangerous  man — one  of  those  whose  influ 
ence  upon  the  colored  people  was  to  array  them  against 
the  whites,  and  unless  promptly  put  down,  bring  about 
a  war  of  races — which  the  white  people  were  determined 
never  to  have  in  Horsford,  if  they  had  to  kill  every 
Radical  in  the  county  in  order  to  live  in  peace  with  their 
former  slaves,  whom  they  had  always  nourished  with 
paternal  affection  and  still  regarded  with  a  most  tender 
care. 

This  man  met  Hesden  as  the  latter  came  out  upon  the 
porch,  and  with  a  flushed  face  and  a  peculiar  twitching 
about  his  mouth,  asked  if  he  could  see  him  in  private  for 
a  moment. 

Hesden  led  the  way  to  his  own  room.  Jackson  then, 
having  first  shut  the  door,  cautiously  said  : 

"  You  know  me,  Mr.  Le  Moyne  ?" 

41  Certainly,  Jackson." 

"  An'  you  knew  my  father  before  me  ?" 

44  Of  course.  I  knew  old  man  Billy  Jackson  very  well 
in  my  young  days." 

"  Did  you  ever  know  anything  mean  or  disreputable 
about  him  ?" 

"  No,  certainly  not  ;  he  was  a  very  correct  man,  so  far 
as  I  ever  heard." 

"  Poor  but  honest  ?" — with  a  sneer. 

14  Well,  yes  ;  a  poor  man,  but  a  very  correct  man." 

*4  Well,  did  you  ever  know  anything  disreputable  about 
me  ?"  keenly. 

14  Well— why — Mr.  Jackson — you — "  stammered  Hes 
den,  much  confused. 

44  Out  with  it  !"  angrily.     "  I'm  a  Radical  ?" 


ANOTHER   OX   GORED.  347 

'  Yes — and — you  know,  your  political  course  has  ren 
dered  you  very  unpopular." 

"  Of  course  !  A  man  has  no  right  to  his  own  political 
opinions. " 

"  Well,  but  you  know,  Mr.  Jackson,  yours  have. been 
so  peculiar  and  so  obnoxious  to  our  best  people.  Be 
sides,  you  have  expressed  them  so  boldly  and  defiantly. 
I  do  not  think  our  people  have  any  ill-feeling  against  you, 
personally  ;  but  you  cannot  wonder  that  so  great  a 
change  as  we  have  had  should  excite  many  of  them  very 
greatly.  You  should  not  be  so  violent,  Mr.  Jackson." 

"  Violent — Hell  !  You'd  better  go  and  preach  peace 
to  Eliab  Hill.  Poor  fellow  !  I  don't  reckon  the  man 
lives  who  ever  heard  him  say  a  harsh  thing  to  any 
one.  He  was  always  that  mild  I  used  to  wonder  the 
Lord  didn't  take  him  long  ago.  Nigger  as  he  was,  and 
cripple  as  he  was,  I'd  ruther  had  his  religion  than  that 
of  all  the  mean,  hypocritical,  murdering  aristocrats  in 
Horsford." 

"  But,  Mr.  Jackson,  you  should  not  speak  in  that  way 
of  our  best  citizens." 

"  Oh,  the  devil  !  I  know — but  that  is  no  matter, 
Mr.  Le  Moyne.  I  didn't  come  to  argue  with  you.  Did 
you  ever  hear  anything  agin'  me  outside  of  my  politics  ?' ' 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  ever  did." 

"  If  you  were  in  a  tight  place,  would  you  have  confi 
dence  in  Jordan  Jackson  as  a  friend  ?" 

'You  know  I  have  reason  to  remember  that,"  said 
Hesden,  with  feeling.  "  You  helped  me  when  1  could  not 
help  myself.  It's  not  every  man  that  would  care  about 
his  horse  carrying  double  when  he  was  running  away 
from  the  Yanks." 

"  Ah  !  you  remember  that,  then?"  with  a  touch  of 
pride  in  his  voice. 


34^  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

'  Yes,  indeed  !  Jackson,"  said  Hesden,  warmly. 

"  Well,  would  you  do  me  a  good  turn  to  pay  for  that  ?" 

"  Certainly — anything  that — "  hesitating. 

"  Oh,  damn  it,  man,  don't  strain  yourself  !  I  didn't 
ask  any  questions  when  I  helped  you  !" 

"  Mr.  Jackson,"  said  Hesden,  with  dignity,  "  I  merely 
wished  to  say  that  I  do  not  care  at  this  time  to  embroil 
myself  in  politics.  You  know  I  have  an  old  mother  who 
is  very  feeble.  I  have  long  regretted  that  affairs  are  in 
the  condition  that  they  are  in,  and  have  wondered  if 
something  could  not  be  done.  Theoretically,  you  are 
right  and  those  who  are  with  you.  Practically,  the  mat 
ter  is  very  embarrassing.  But  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say, 
Mr.  Jackson,  that  those  who  commit  such  outrages  as 
that  perpetrated  at  Red  Wing  disgrace  the  name  of  gen 
tleman,  the  county,  and  State,  the  age  we  live  in,  and  the 
religion  we  profess.  That  I  will  say." 

"  And    that's  quite  enough,    Mr.    Le  Moyne.      All   I 
wanted  was  to  ask  you  to  act  as  my  trustee." 
'  Your  trustee  in  what  ?" 

1  There  is  a  deed  I  have  just  executed  conveying 
everything  I  have  to  you,  and  I  want  you  to  sell  it  off 
and  dispose  of  it  the  best  you  can,  and  send  me  the 
money." 

"  Send  it  to  you  ?" 
4  Yes,  I'm  going  away." 

"  Going  away  ?     Why  ?     You  are  not  in  debt  ?" 

"  I  don't  owe  a  hundred  dollars." 
'  Then  why  are  you  doingthis?     I  don't  understand." 

11  Mr.  Le  Moyne,"  said  Jackson,  coming  close  to  him 
and  speaking  in  a  low  intense  tone,  "  I  was  whipped  last 
night  !" 

"  Whipped  !" 

"Yes." 


ANOTHER    OX   GORED.  349 

"  By  whom  ?" 

"  By  my  own  neighbors,  in  the  sight  of  my  wife  and 
daughter  !" 

"  By  the  Ku  Klux  ?" 

'  That's  what  they  call  themselves.11 

"  My  God,   it  cannot  be  !" 

"  Cannot  ?"  The  man's  face  twitched  nervously,  as, 
dropping  his  hat,  he  threw  off  his  light  coat  and,  open 
ing  his  shirt-collar  and  turning  away  his  head,  showed 
his  shoulder  covered  with  wales,  still  raw  and  bleeding. 

"  My  God  !"  cried  Hesden,  as  he  put  up  his  hand  and 
started  back  in  horror.  "  And  you  a  white  man  ?" 

'Yes,  Mr.  Le  Moyne,"  said  Jackson,  turning  his 
face,  burning  with  shame  and  indignation,  toward  his 
high-bred  neighbor,  "  and  the  only  reason  this  was 
done — the  only  thing  agin  me — is  that  I  was  honestly  in 
favor  of  giving  to  the  colored  man  the  rights  which 
the  law  of  the  land  says  he  shall  have,  like  other  men. 
When  the  war  was  over,  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  I  didn't  '  give 
up,'  as  all  you  rich  folks  talked  about  doing,  and  try  to 
put  up  with  what  was  to  come  afterward.  I  hadn't  lost 
nothing  by  the  war,  bat,  on  the  contrary,  had  gained 
what  I  had  no  chance  to  git  in  any  other  way.  So  I  jest 
looked  things  square  in  the  face  and  made  up  my  mind 
that  it  was  a  good  thing  for  me,  and  all  such  as  me,  that 
the  damned  old  Confederacy  was  dead.  And  the  more 
I  thought  on't  the  more  I  couldn't  help  seein'  and  be- 
lievin'  that  it  was  right  and  fair  to  free  the  niggers  and 
let  them  have  a  fair  show  and  a  white  man's  chance — - 
votin'  and  all.  That's  what  I  call  a  fair  hack,  and  I 
swear,  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  I  don't  know  how  it  may  seem 
to  you,  but  to  my  mind  any  man  that  ain't  willing  to  let 
any  other  man  have  that,  is  a  damn  coward  !  I'm  as 
white  as  anybody,  and  hain't  no  more  reason  to  stand  up 


35°  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

for  niggers  than  any  of  the  rest  of  the  white  people — no, 
nor  half  as  much  as  most  of  'em,  for,  as  fur  as  1  know, 
I  hain't  got  no  relations  among  'em.  But  I  do  say  that 
if  the  white  folks  of  the  South  can't  stand  up  to  a  fair 
fight  with  the  niggers  at  the  polls,  without  cuttin',  and 
murderin',  and  burnin',  and  shootin',  and  whippin', 
and  Ku  Kluxin',  and  cheatin',  and  swindlin',  they  are 
a  damned  no-'count  people,  and  don't  deserve  no  sort 
of  show  in  the  world — no  more  than  a  mean,  sneakin', 
venomous  moccasin-snake — there  !" 

"  But  you  don't  think — "  Hesden  began. 
'Think?  Damn  it,  I  know  /"  broke  in  Jackson. 
"  They  said  if  I  would  quit  standin'  up  for  the  nig 
gers,  they'd  let  me  off,  even  after  they'd  got  me  stripped 
and  hung  up.  I  wouldn't  do  it  !  I  didn't  believe  then 
they'd  cut  me  up  this  way  ;  but  they  did  !  An'  now  I'm 
goin'.  I'd  stay  an'  fight,  but  'tain't  no  use  ;  an'  I 
couldn't  look  a  man  in  the  eye  who  I  thought  tuk  a 
hand  in  that  whippin'  without  killin'  him.  I've  got  to 
go,  Le  Moyne, "  he  said  with  clenched  fists,  "  or  I  shall 
commit  murder  before  the  sun  goes  down." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  God  knows  !  Somewhere  where  the  world's  free 
and  the  earth's  fresh,  and  where  it's  no  crime  to  have 
been  born  poor  or  to  uphold  and  maintain  the  laws  of 
the  land." 

"  I'm  sorry,  Jackson,  but  I  don't  blame  you.  You 
can't  live  here  in  peace,  and  you  are  wise  to  go,"  said 
Hesden,  extending  his  hand. 

"  Will  you  be  my  trustee  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  God  bless  you  !" 

The  angry,  crushed,  and  outraged  man  broke  into  tears 
as  he  shook  the  hand  he  held. 


BACKWARD   AND   FORWARD.  351 

There  was  an  hour  or  two  of  close  consultation,  and 
then  Hesden  Le  Moyne  looked  thoughtfully  after  this 
earnest  and  well-meaning  man,  who  was  compelled  to 
flee  from  the  land  for  which  he  had  fought,  simply  be 
cause  he  had  adopted  the  policy  and  principles  which 
the  conquering  power  had  thrust  into  the  fundamental 
law,  and  endeavored  to  carry  them  out  in  good  faith. 
Like  the  fugitive  from  slavery  in  the  olden  time,  he  had 
started  toward  the  North  Pole  on  the  quest  for  liberty. 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

BACKWARD    AND    FORWARD. 

THE  task  which  Hesden  Le  Moyne  undertook  when  he 
assumed  the  care  and  protection  of  Eliab  Hill,  was  no 
trivial  one,  as  he  well  understood. 

He  realized  as  fully  as  did  Nimbus  the  necessity  of 
absolute  concealment,  for  he  was  well  aware  that  the  blaze 
of  excitement  which  would  sweep  over  Horsford,  when 
the  events  that  had  occurred  at  Red  Wing  should  become 
known,  would  spare  no  one  who  should  harbor  or  con 
ceal  any  of  the  recognized  leaders  of  the  colored  men. 
He  knew  that  not  only  that  organization  which  had  just 
shown  its  existence  in  the  county,  but  the  vast  majority 
of  all  the  white  inhabitants  as  well,  would  look  upon  this 
affair  as  indubitable  evidence  of  the  irrepressible  conflict 
of  races,  in  which  they  all  believed  most  devoutly. 

He  had  looked  forward  to  this  time  with  great  appre 
hension.  Although  he  had  scrupulously  refrained  from 
active  participation  in  political  life,  it  was  not  from  any 
lack  of  interest  in  the  political  situation  of  the  country. 
He  had  not  only  the  ordinary  instinct  of  the  educated 


35 2  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Southern  man  for  political  thought — an  instinct  which 
makes  every  man  in  that  section  first  of  all  things  a 
partisan,  and  contsitutes  politics  the  first  and  most  im 
portant  business  of  life — but  besides  this  general  interest 
in  public  affairs  he  had  also  an  inherited  bias  of  hos 
tility  to  the  right  of  secession,  as  well  as  to  iis 
policy.  His  father  had  been  what  was  termed  a 
"  Douglas  Democrat,"  and  the  son  had  absorbed  his 
views.  With  that  belief  in  a  father's  infallibility  which 
is  so  general  in  that  part  of  the  country,  Hesden,  despite 
his  own  part  in  the  war  and  the  chagrin  which  defeat  had 
brought,  had  looked  only  for  evil  results  to  come  out  of 
the  present  struggle,  which  he  believed  to  have  been  use 
lessly  precipitated. 

It  was  in  this  state  of  mind  that  he  had  watched  the 
new  phase  of  the  "  irrepressible  conflict  "  which  super 
vened  upon  the  downfall  of  the  Rebellion  In  so  doing, 
he  had  arrived  at  the  following  conclusions  : 

1.  That  it  was  a  most  fortunate  and  providential  thing 

that  the  Confederacy  had  failed.  He  had  begun 
to  realize  the  wisdom  of  Washington  when  he  re 
ferred  to  the  dogma  of  "  State  rights"  as  "  that 
bantling — I  like  to  have  said  that  monster." 

2.  That  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves  would  ultimately 

prove  advantageous  to  the  white  man. 

3.  That    it  was    the  part  of  honorable  men  fairly  and 

honestly  to  carry  out  and  give  effect  to  all  the 
conditions,  expressed  and  implied,  on  which 
power,  representation,  and  autonomy  were  restored 
to  the  recently  rebellious  States.  This  he  believed 
to  be  a  personal  duty,  and  a  failure  so  to  do  he 
regarded  as  a  disgrace  to  every  man  in  any  way 
contributing  to  it,  especially  if  he  had  been  a 
soldier  and  had  shared  the  defeat  of  which  these 
conditions  were  a  consequence. 


BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD.  353 

4.  He  did  not  regard  either  the  war  or  the  legislation 
known  as  reconstructionary  as  having  in  any  man 
ner  affected  the  natural  relation  of  the  races.  In 
the  old  times  he  had  never  felt  or  believed  that 
the  slave  was  inherently  endowed  with  the  same 
rights  as  the  master  ;  and  he  did  not  see  how  the 
results  of  war  could  enhance  his  natural  rights. 
He  did  not  believe  that  the  colored  man  had  an  in 
herent  right  to  freedom  or  to  self-government. 
Whatever  right  of  that  kind  he  might  now  have  was 
simply  by  the  free  grace  of  the  conqueror.  He 
had  a  right  to  the  fruit  of  his  own  labor,  to  the  care, 
protection,  and  service  of  his  own  children,  to  the 
society  and  comfort  of  his  wife,  to  the  protection 
of  his  own  person,  to  marriage,  the  ballot,  pos 
sessory  capacity,  and  all  those  things  which  dis 
tinguish  the  citizen  from  the  chattel — not  because 
of  his  manhood,  nor  because  of  inherent  co- 
equality  of  right  with  the  white  man  ;  but  simply 
because  the  national  legislation  gave  it  to  him  as 
a  condition  precedent  of  statal  rehabilitation. 

These  may  seem  to  the  Northern  reader  very  narrow 
views;  and  so  they  are,  as  compared  with  those  that  un 
derlay  the  spirit  of  resistance  to  rebellion,  and  the  fever 
heat  for  human  rights,  which  was  the  animating  principle 
in  the  hearts  of  the  people  when  they  endorsed  and 
approved  those  amendments  which  were  the  basis  of 
reconstructionary  legislation.  It  should  be  remembered, 
however,  that  even  these  views  were  infinitely  in  advance 
of  the  ideas  generally  entertained  by  his  white  fellow-citi 
zens  of  the  South.  Nearly  all  of  them  regarded  these 
matters  in  a  very  different  light ;  and  most  naturally,  too, 
as  any  one  may  understand  who  will  remember  \vhat 


354  BRICKS  in T HOUr  STRAW. 

had  gone  before,  and  will  keep  in  mind  that  defeat  docs 
not  mean  a  new  birth,  and  that  warfare  leaves  men  un 
changed  by  its  results,  whatever  may  be  its  effects  on  na 
tions  and  societies. 

They  regretted  the  downfall  of  the  Confederacy  as  the 
triumph  of  a  lower  and  baser  civilization — the  ascendency 
of  a  false  idea  and  an  act  of  unrighteous  and  unjustifiable 
subversion.  To  their  minds  it  was  a  forcible  denial  of 
their  rights,  and,  to  a  large  portion  of  them,  a  dishonor 
able  violation  of  that  contract  or  treaty  upon  which  the 
Federal  Union  was  based,  and  by  which  the  right  for 
which  they  fought  had,  according  to  their  construction, 
been  assured.  As  viewed  by  them,  the  result  of  the  war 
had  not  changed  these  facts,  nor  justified  the  infraction 
of  the  rights  of  the  South. 

In  the  popular  phrase  of  that  day,  they  "  accepted  the 
situation" — which  to  their  minds  simply  meant  that  they 
would  not  fight  any  more  for  independent  existence. 
The  North  understood  it  to  mean  that  they  would  accept 
cheerfully  and  in  good  faith  any  terms  and  conditions 
which  might  be  imposed  upon  them  as  a  condition  of 
Rehabilitation. 

The  masses  of  the  Southern  whites  regarded  the  eman 
cipation  of  the  negro  simply  as  an  arbitrary  exercise  of 
power,  intended  as  a  punishment  for  the  act  of  attempted 
secession — which  act,  while  many  believed  it  to  have  been 
impolitic,  few  believed  to  be  in  conflict  with  the  true 
theory  of  our  government.  They  considered  the  freeing 
of  the  slave  merely  a  piece  of  wanton  spite,  inspired, 
in  great  measure,  by  sheer  envy  of  Southern  superiority, 
in  part  by  angry  hate  because  of  the  troubles,  perils,  and 
losses  of  the  war,  and,  in  a  very  small  degree,  by  honest 
though  absurd  fanaticism.  They  did  not  believe  that  it 
was  done  for  the  sake  of  the  slave,  to  secure  his  liberty 


BACKWARD  AXD  FORWARD.  355 

or  to  establish  his  rights  ;  but  they  believed  most  devoutly 
that  it  was  done  solely  and  purposely  to  injure  the 
master,  to  punish  the  rebel,  and  to  still  further  cripple 
and  impoverish  the  South.  It  was,  to  them,  an  unwar 
rantable  measure  of  unrighteous  retribution  inspired  by 
the  lowest  and  basest  motives. 

But  if,  to  the  mass  of  Southern  white  men,  emancipa 
tion  was  a  measure  born  of  malicious  spite  in  the  breast 
of  the  North,  what  should  they  say  of  that  which  followed 
— the  enfranchisement^  the  black  ?  It  was  a  gratuitous  in 
sult — a  causeless  infamy  !  It  was  intended  to  humiliate, 
without  even  the  mean  motive  of  advantage  to  be  de 
rived.  They  did  not  for  a  moment  believe — they  do  not 
believe  to-day — that  the  negro  was  enfranchised  for 
his  own  sake,  or  because  the  North  believed  that  he  was 
entitled  to  self-government,  or  was  fit  for  self-govern 
ment  ;  but  simply  and  solely  because  it  was  hoped  thereby 
to  degrade,  overawe,  and  render  powerless  the  white 
element  of  the  Southern  populations.  They  thought  it 
a  fraud  in  itself,  by  which  the  North  pretended  to  give 
back  to  the  South  her  place  in  the  nation  ;  but  instead, 
gave  her  only  a  debased  and  degraded  co-ordination  with 
a  race  despised  beyond  the  power  of  words  to  express. 

This  anger  seemed — and  still  seems  to  the  Northern 
mind — useless,  absurd,  and  ridiculous.  It  appears  to  us 
as  groundless  and  almost  as  laughable  as  the  frantic  and 
impotent  rage  of  the  Chinaman  who  has  lost  his  sacred 
queue  by  the  hand  of  the  Christian  spoiler.  To  the 
Northern  mind  the  cause  is  entirely  incommensurate  with 
the  anger  displayed.  One  is  inclined  to  ask,  with  a 
laugh,  "  Well,  what  of  it?"  Perhaps  there  is  not  a  single 
Northern  resident  of  the  South  who  has  not  more  than 
once  offended  some  personal  friend  by  smiling  in  his 
face  while  he  raged,  with  white  lips  and  glaring  eyes, 


356  PRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

about  this  culminating  ignominy.  Yet  it  was  sadly  real 
to  them.  In  comparison  with  this,  all  other  evils  seemed 
light  and  trivial,  and  whatever  tended  to  prevent  it, 
was  deemed  (air  and  just.  For  this  reason,  the  South 
erners  felt  themselves  not  only  justified,  but  imperatively 
called  upon,  in  every  way  and  manner,  to  resist  and  an-t 
mil  all  legislation  having  this  end  in  view.  Regarding  it 
as  inherently  fraudulent,  malicious,  and  violent,  they  felt 
no  compunctions  in  defeating  its  operation  by  counter- 
fraud  and  violence. 

It  was  thus  that  the  elements  of  reconstruction  affected 
the  hearts  and  heads  of  most  of  the  Southern  whites.  To 
admit  that  they  were  honest  in  holding  such  views  as  they 
did  is  only  to  give  them  the  benefit  of  a  presumption 
which,  when  applied  to  the  acts  and  motives  of  whole 
peoples,  becomes  irrefutable.  A  mob  may  be  wrong- 
headed,  but  it  is  always  right-hearted.  What  it  does 
may  be  infamous,  but  underlying  its  acts  is  always  the 
sting  of  a  great  evil  or  the  hope  of  a  great  good. 

Thus  it  was,  too,  that  to  the  subtler  mind  and  less 
selfish  heart  of  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  every  attempt  to  nul 
lify  the  effect  or  evade  the  operation  of  the  Reconstruc 
tion  laws  was  tinged  with  the  idea  of  personal  dishonor. 
To  his  understanding,  the  terms  of  surrender  were,  not 
merely  that  he  would  not  again  fight  for  a  separate  gov 
ernmental  existence,  but,  also,  that  he  would  submit  to 
such  changes  in  the  national  polity  as  the  conquering 
majority  might  deem  necessary  and  desirable  as  condi 
tions  precedent  to  restored  power  ;  and  would  honestly 
and  fairly,  as  an  honorable  man  and  a  brave  soldier, 
carry  out  those  laws  either  to  successful  fruition  or  to  fair 
and  legitimate  repeal. 

He  was  not  animated  by  any  thought  of  advantage  to 
himself  or  to  his  class  to  arise  from  such  ideas.  UnliUe 


BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD.  357 

Jordan  Jackson,  and  men  of  his  type,  there  was  nothing 
which  his  class  could  gain  thereby,  except  a  share  in  the 
ultimate  glory  and  success  of  an  enlarged  and  solidified 
nation.  The  self-abnegation  which  he  had  learned 
from  three  years  of  duty  as  a  private  soldier  and  al 
most  a  lifetime  of  patient  attendance  upon  a  loved 
but  exacting  invalid,  inclined  to  him  to  study  the  move 
ments  of  society  and  the  world,  without  especial  refer 
ence  to  himself,  or  the  narrow  circle  of  his  family  or 
class.  To  his  mind,  honor — that  honor  which  he  ac 
counted  the  dearest  birthright  his  native  South  had  given 
— required  that  from  and  after  the  day  of  his  surrender 
he  should  seek  and  desire,  not  the  gratification  of  re 
venge  nor  the  display  of  prejudice,  but  the  success  and 
glory  of  the  great  republic.  He  felt  that  the  American 
Nation  had  become  greater  and  more  glorious  by  the 
very  act  of  overcoming  rebellion.  He  recognized 
that  the  initial  right  or  wrong  of  that  struggle,  what 
ever  it  might  have  been,  should  be  subordinated  in  all 
minds  to  the  result — an  individual  Nation.  It  was  a 
greater  and  a  grander  thing  to  be  an  American  than  to 
have  been  a  Confederate  !  It  was  more  honorable  and 
knightly  to  be  true  in  letter  and  in  spirit  to  every  law  of 
his  reunited  land  than  to  make  the  woes  of  the  past  an 
excuse  for  the  wrongs  of  the  present.  He  felt  all  the 
more  scrupulous  in  regard  to  this,  because  those  measures 
were  not  altogether  such  as  he  would  have  adopted,  nor 
such  as  he  could  yet  believe  would  prove  immediately 
successful.  He  thought  that  every  Southern  man  should 
see  to  it  especially  that,  if  any  element  of  reconstruction 
failed,  it  should  not  be  on  account  of  any  lack  of  honest, 
sincere  and  hearty  co-operation  on  his  part. 

It  was  for  this  reason  that  he  had  taken  such  interest 
in  the  experiment  that  was  going  on  at  Red  Wing  in  ed- 


35 8  B KICKS  M'lTIIOUT  STRAW. 

ucating  the  colored  people.  lie  did  not  at  fitst  believe 
at  all  in  the  capacity  of  the  negro  for  culture,  progress, 
self-support,  or  self-government  ;  but  he  believed  that 
the  experiment,  having  been  determined  on  by  the  nation, 
should  be  fairly  and  honestly  carried  out  and  its  success 
or  failure  completely  demonstrated.  He  admitted  frankly 
that,  if  they  had  such  capacity,  they  undoubtedly  had  the 
right  to  use  it ;  because  he  believed  the  right  inherent  and 
inalienable  with  any  race  or  people  having  the  capacity. 
He  considered  that  it  was  only  the  lack  of  co-ordinate 
capacity  that  made  the  Africans  unfit  to  exercise  co-ordi 
nate  power  with  individuals  of  the  white  race. 

He  thought  they  should  be  encouraged  by  every  means 
to  develop  what  was  in  them,  and  readily  admitted 
that,  should  the  experiment  succeed  and  all  distinction 
of  civil  right  and  political  power  be  successfully  abolished, 
the  strength  and  glory  of  the  nation  would  be  wonder 
fully  enhanced.  His  partiality  for  the  two  chief  pro 
moters  of  the  experiment  at  Red  Wing  had  greatly 
increased  his  interest  in  the  result,  which  had  by  no 
means  been  diminished  by  his  acquaintance  with  Mollie 
Ainslie. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  he  bent  over  his  uncon 
scious  charge  in  the  stillness  of  the  morning,  made  an 
examination  of  the  wounds  of  his  old  playmate  by  the 
flickering  light  of  the  lamp,  and  undertook  the  process  of 
resuscitation  and  cure,  that  he  began  to  realize  how  his 
ancient  prejudice  was  giving  way  before  the  light  of 
what  he  could  not  but  regard  as  truth.  The  application 
of  some  simple  remedies  soon  restored  Eliab  to  con 
sciousness,  but  he  found  that  the  other  injuries  were  so 
serious  as  to  demand  immediate  surgical  attendance,  and 
would  require  considerable  time  for  their  cure. 

His   first    idea   had   been    to    keep    Eliab's   presence 


BACKWARD  AND   FORWARD.  359 

at  his  house  entirely  concealed  ;  but  as  soon  as  he 
realized  the  extent  of  his  injuries,  he  saw  that  this 
would  be  impossible,  and  concluded  that  the  safer  way 
would  be  to  entrust  the  secret  to  those  servants  who  were 
employed  4<  about  the  lot,"  which  includes,  upon  a 
Southern  plantation,  all  who  are  not  regularly  engaged  in 
the  crop.  He  felt  the  more  willing  to  do  this  because  of 
the  attachment  felt  for  the  sweet-tempered  but  deformed 
minister  at  Red  Wing  by  all  of  his  race  in  the  county. 
He  carefully  impressed  upon  the  two  women  and  Charles, 
the  stable-boy,  the  necessity  of  the  utmost  caution  in  re 
gard  to  the  matter,  and  arranged  with  them  to  care  for  his 
patient  by  turns,  so  as  never  to  leave  him  alone.  He 
sent  to  the  post  at  Boyleston  for  a  surgeon,  whose 
coming  chanced  not  to  be  noticed  by  the  neighbors, 
as  he  arrived  just  after  dark  and  went  away  before 
daylight  to  return  to  his  duty.  A  comfortable  cot  was 
arranged  for  the  wounded  man,  and,  to  make  the  care 
of  him  less  onerous,  as  well  as  to  avoid  the  remark 
which  continual  use  of  the  ladder  would  be  sure  to 
excite,  Charles  was  directed  to  cut  a  doorway  through 
the  other  gable  of  the  old  house  into  one  of  the  rooms 
in  a  newer  part.  Charles  was  one  of  those  men  found 
on  almost  every  plantation,  who  can  "turn  a  hand  to 
almost  anything."  In  a  short  time  he  had  arranged 
a  door  from  the  chamber  above  "  Marse  Hesden's 
room,"  and  the  task  of  nursing  the  stricken  man  back  to 
life  and  such  health  as  he  might  thereafter  have,  was 
carried  on  by  the  faithful  band  of  watchers  in  the  dim 
light  of  the  old  attic  and  arnid  the  spicy  cdor  of  the 
"  bulks"  of  tobacco,  which  was  stored  there  awaiting 
a  favorable  market. 

Hesden  was  so  occupied  with  this  care  that  it  was  not 
until  the  next  day  that  he  became  aware  of  Mollie's  ab- 


360  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

sence.  As  she  had  gone  without  preparation  or  farewell, 
he  rightly  judged  that  it  was  her  intention  to  return. 
At  first,  he  thought  he  would  go  at  once  to  Red  Wing 
and  assure  himself  of  her  safety,  but  a  moment's  consid 
eration  showed  him  not  only  that  this  was  probably 
unnecessary,  but  also  that  to  do  so  would  attract 
attention,  and  perhaps  reveal  the  hiding-place  of  Eliab. 
Besides,  he  felt  confident  that  she  would  not  be  molested, 
and  thought  it  quite  as  well  that  she  should  not  be  at 
Mulberry  Hill  for  a  few  days,  until  the  excitement  had 
somewhat  worn  away. 

On  the  next  day,  Eliab  inquired  so  pitifully  for  both 
Miss  Moll ie and  Nimbus,  that  Hesden,  although  he  knew 
it  was  a  half-delirious  anxiety,  had  sent  Charles  on  an 
errand  to  a  plantation  in  that  vicinity,  with  directions  to 
learn  all  he  could  of  affairs  there,  if  possible  without 
communicating  directly  with  Miss  Ainslie. 

This  he  did,  and  reported  everything  quiet — Nimbus 
and  Berry  not  heard  from  ;  Eliab  supposed  to  have  been 
killed  ;  the  colored  people  greatly  alarmed  ;  and  "  Miss 
Mollie  a-comfortin'  an  encouragin'  on  'em  night  an'  day. ' ' 

Together  with  this  anxiety  came  the  trust  confided  to 
Hesden  by  Jordan  Jackson,  and  the  new,  and  at  first 
somewhat  arduous,  duties  imposed  thereby.  In  the  dis 
charge  of  these  he  was  brought  into  communication  with 
a  great  many  of  the  best  people  of  the  county,  and  did  not 
hesitate  to  express  his  opinion  freely  as  to  the  outrage  at 
Red  Wing.  He  was  several  times  warned  to  be  prudent, 
but  he  answered  all  warnings  so  firmly,  and  yet  with  so 
much  feeling,  that  he  was  undisturbed.  He  stood  so 
high,  and  had  led  so  pure  a  life,  that  he  could  even  be 
allowed  to  entertain  obnoxious  sentiments  without  per 
sonal  danger,  so  long  as  he  did  not  attempt  to  reduce  them 
to  practice  or  attempt  to  secure  for  colored  people  the 


BREASTING  THE   TORRENT.  361 

rights  to  which  he  thought  them  entitled.  However,  a 
great  deal  of  remark  was  occasioned  by  the  fact  of  his  hav 
ing  become  trustee  for  the  fugitive  Radical,  and  he  was 
freely  charged  with  having  disgraced  and  degraded  him 
self  and  his  family  by  taking  the  part  of  a  "  renegade, 
Radical  white  nigger,"  like  Jackson.  This  duty  took 
him  from  home  during  the  day  in  a  direction  away  from 
Red  Wing,  and  a  part  of  each  night  he  sat  by  the  bed 
side  of  Eliab.  So  that  more  than  a  week  had  passed, 
during  which  he  had  found  opportunity  to  take  but 
three  meals  with  his  mother,  and  had  not  yet  been  able 
to  visit  Red  Wing. 


CHAPTER   XLVII. 

BREASTING    THE    TORRENT. 

To  make  up  for  the  sudden  loss  of  society  occasioned 
by  the  simultaneous  departure  of  Mollie  and  the  unusual 
engrossment  of  Hesden  in  business  matters  of  pressing 
moment,  as  he  had  informed  her,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  had 
sent  for  one  of  the  sisters  of  her  son's  deceased  wife, 
Miss  Hetty  Lomax,  to  come  and  visit  her.  It  was  to 
this  young  lady  that  Hesden  had  appealed  when  the 
young  teacher  was  suddenly  stricken  down  in  his  house, 
and  who  had  so  rudely  refused.  Learning  that  the  ob- 
'ject  of  her  antipathy  was  no  longer  there,  Miss  Hetty 
came  and  made  herself  very  entertaining  to  the  invalid 
by  detailing  to  her  all  the  horrors,  real  and  imagined,  of 
the  past  few  days.  Day  by  day  she  was  in  the  invalid's 
room,  and  it  was  from  her  that  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  had  learn 
ed  all  that  was  contained  in  her  letter  to  Mollie  concern 
ing  the  public  feeling  and  excitement.  A  week  had 


362  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

elapsed,  when  Miss  Hetty  one  day  appeared  with  a  most 
interesting  budget  of  news,  the  recital  of  which  seemed 
greatly  to  excite  Mrs.  Le  Moyne.  At  first  she  listened 
with  incredulity  and  resentment  ;  then  conviction  seemed 
to  force  itself  upon  her  mind,  and  anger  succeeded  to 
astonishment.  Calling  her  serving  woman,  she  asked 
impetuously  : 

"  Maggie,  is  your  Master  Hesden  about  the  house  ?" 

"  Really  now  mistis,"  said  the  girl  in  some  confu 
sion,  "  I  can't  edsackly  tell.  He  war,  delas'  time  I  seed 
him  ;  but  then  he  mout  hev  gone  out  sence  dat,  yer 
know." 

"  Where  was  he  then  ?" 

"  He  war  in  his  room,  ma'am,  wid  a  strange  gemmen." 

"  Yes,"  added  the  mistress,  in  a  significant  tone,  "  he 
seems  to  have  a  great  deal  of  strange  company  lately." 

The  girl  glanced  at  her  quickly  as  she  arranged  the 
bed-clothing,  and  the  young  lady  who  sat  in  the  easy 
chair  chuckled  knowingly. 

So  the  woman  answered  artfully,  but  with  seeming  in 
nocence  : 

"La,  mistis,  it  certain  am  quare  how  you  finds  out 
t'ings.  'Pears  like  a  mouse  can't  stir  'bout  de  house, 
but  you  hears  it  quicker  nor  de  cat." 

It  was  deft  flattery,  and  the  pleased  mistress  swallowed 
the  bait  with  a  smile. 

"  I  always  try  to  know  what  is  going  on  in  my  o\vn 
house,"  she  responded,  complacently. 

"Should  t'ink  yer  did,"  said  the  colored  woman, 
gazing  at  her  in  admiring  wonder.  "  I  don't  'llow  dar's 
ennybody  come  inter  dis  yer  house  in  one  while,  dat  yer 
didn't  know  all  'bout  'em  widout  settin'  eyes  on  'em.  1 
wouldn't  be  at  all  s'prised,  dat  I  wouldn't,"  said  she  to 
the  young  lady.  "  ter  find  dat  she  knows  whose  h'yer  now, 


BREASTING  THE   TORRENT.  363 

an'  whose  been  h'yer  ebbery  day  sence  Marse  Hesden's 
been  so  busy.  La  !  she's  a  woman— she's  got  a  head 
piece,  she  hab  !" 

'  Yes,"  said  the  invalid  ;"  I  know  that  that  odious 
scallawag,  Jordan  Jackson,  has  been  here  and  has  beer 
shut  up  with  my  son,  consulting  and  planning  the  Lord 
knows  what,  here  in  this  very  house  of  mine.  Pretty 
business  for  a  Le  Moyne  and  a  Richards  to  be  in  !  You 
all  thought  you'd  keep  it  from  me;  but  you  couldn't." 

"  La,  sakes  !"  said  the  girl,  with  a  look  of  relief, 
"  yer  mustn't  say  me.  I  didn't  never  try  ter  keep  it.  I 
know'd  yer'd  find  it  out." 

"  When  do  you  say  you  saw  him  ?" 

I  jes  disremembers  now  what  time  it  war.  Some 
time  dis  mornin'  though.  It  mout  hev  been  some  two 
— free  hours  ago." 

"  Who  was  the  gentleman  with  him — I  hope  he  was  a 
gentleman  ?"  , 

"  Oh  la,  ma'am,  dat  he  war — right  smart  ob  one, 
I  should  jedge,  though  I  nebber  seen  his  face  afo'  in  my 
born  days." 

"  And  don't  know  his  name  ?" 

"  Not  de  fust  letter  ob  it,  mistis." 

Maggie  might  well  say  that,  since  none  of  the  letters 
of  the  alphabet  were  known  to  her  ;  but  when  she  con 
veyed  the  idea  that  she  did  not  know  the  name  of  the 
visitor,  it  was  certainly  a  stretch  of  the  truth  ;  but  then 
she  did  not  know  as  "  Marse  Hesden"  would  care  about 
his  mother  knowing  the  name  of  his  visitor,  and  she  had 
no  idea  of  betraying  anything  which  concerned  him 
against  his  wish.  So  in  order  to  be  perfectly  safe,  she 
deemed  it  best  to  deceive  her  mistress. 

"  Tell  your  Master  Hesden  I  wish  to  see  him  immedi 
ately,  Maggie,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  imperiously. 


364  BKICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Yes'm,"  said  the  girl,  as  she  left  the  room  to  per 
form  her  errand. 

There  was  a  broad  grin  upon  her  face  as  she  crossed 
the  passage  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  Hesden's  room, 
thinking  how  she  had  flattered  her  mistress  into  a  revela 
tion  of  her  own  ignorance.  She  was  demure  enough, 
however,  when  Hesden  himself  opened  the  door  and  in 
quired  what  she  wished. 

"  Please,  sah,  de  mistis  tole  me  ter  ax  yer  ter  come 
inter  her  room,  right  away." 

"  Anything  the  matter,  Maggie  ?" 

'*  Nuffin',  only  jes  she  wants  ter  talk  wid  yer  'bout 
sunthin',  I  reckon." 

"  Who  is  with  her?" 

41  Miss  Hetty." 

"  Yes" — musingly. 

"  An'  de  mistis  'pears  powerfully  put  out  'bout  sun- 
thin'  or  udder,"  volunteered  the  girl. 

"  Yes,"  repeated  Hesden,  absently.  "  Well,  Maggie, 
say  to  my  mother  that  I  am  very  closely  engaged,  and 
I  hope  she  will  please  excuse  me  for  a  few  hours." 

The  girl  returned  and  delivered  her  message. 

"  What  !"  exclaimed  the  sick  woman,  in  amazement. 
"  He  must  have  turned  Radical  sure  enough,  to  send 
me  such  an  answer  as  that  !  Maggie,"  she  continued, 
with  severe  dignity,  "  you  must  be  mistaken.  Return 
and  tell  my  son  that  I  am  sure  you  are  mistaken." 

*'  Oh,  dar  ain't  no  mistake  'bout  it,  mistis.  Dem's  de 
berry  words  Marse  Hesden  said,  shore." 

"Do  as  I  bade  you,  Maggie,"  said  the  mistress, 
quietly. 

"  Oh,  certain,  mistis,  certain — only  dar  ain't  no  mis 
take,"  said  the  woman,  as  she  returned  with  the  message 
she  was  charged  to  deliver. 


BREASTING  THE  TORRENT.  365 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  change  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne  of  her  companion  as  soon  as  the  door  was  closed 
upon  the  servant.  '  There  never  was  a  time  before 
when  Hesden  did  not  come  the  instant  I  called,  no  mat 
ter  upon  what  he  might  be  engaged." 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  laughingly,  "I  used  to  tell 
Julia  that  it  would  make  me  awfully  jealous  to  have  a 
husband  jump  up  and  leave  me  to  go  and  pet  his  mother 
before  the  honeymoon  was  over." 

"  Poor  Julia  !"  sighed  the  invalid.  "  Hesden  never 
appreciated  her — never.  He  didn't  feel  her  loss  as  I  did. " 

"  I  should  think  not,"  replied  the  sister-in-law, 
sharply.  "  But  he  might  at  least  have  had  regard 
enough  for  her  memory  not  to  have  flirted  so  outrageously 
with  that  Yankee  school-marm." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Hetty  !"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne, 
severely.  "  Please  remember  that  it  is  my  son  of  whom 
you  are  speaking." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Miss  Hetty,  sharply,  "  we  have  been 
speaking  of  him  all  along,  and — " 

The  door  from  the  hall  was  opened  quickly,  and  Hes 
den  looking  in,  said  pleasantly, 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  suffering,  mother  ?" 

"  Not  more  than  usual,  Hesden,"  said  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne,  "  but  I  wish  to  see  you  very  particularly,  my 
son." 

"  I  am  very  busy,  mother,  on  a  most  important  mat 
ter  ;  but  you  know  I  will  always  make  everything  give 
way  for  you. 

So  saying,  he  stepped  into  the  room  and  stood  await 
ing  his  mother's  pleasure,  after  bowing  somewhat  form 
ally  to  the  younger  lady. 

"  What  are  these  reports  I  hear  about  you,  Hesden  ?" 
asked  his  mother,  with  some  show  of  anger. 


366  JtRJCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  little  mother,"  said  Hesden 
smiling  ;  "  but  was  it  to  make  this  inquiry  you  called  me 
from  my  business  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  I  should  like  to 
know  what  there  could  be  of  more  importance  to  you  than 
such  slanderous  reports  as  Cousin  Hetty  tells  me  are 
being  circulated  about  you." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  interesting  if  Cousin  Hetty 
brings  them,"  said  Hesden  ;  "  but  you  will  please  ex 
cuse  me  now,  as  I  have  matters  of  more  importance  to 
attend  to." 

He  bowed,  and  would  have  passed  out,  but  the  good 
lady  cried  out  almost  with  a  shriek, 

"  But  Hesden  !  Hesden  !  Hetty  says  that— that— 
that  they  say — you — are  a — a  Radical!" 

She  started  from  her  pillows,  and  leaned  forward  with 
one  white  hand  uplifted,  as  she  waited  his  reply. 

He  turned  back  instantly,  stepped  quickly  to  the  bed 
side,  and  put  his  one  arm  caressingly  about  her  as  he 
said  earnestly,  "  I  am  afraid,  mother,  if  one  speaks  of 
things  which  have  occurred  in  Horsford  during  the  past 
few  days  as  a  man  of  honor  ought,  he  must  expect  to  be 
called  bad  names." 

"  But  Hesden — you  are  not — do  tell  me,  my  son," 
said  his  mother,  in  a  tone  of  entreaty,  "  that  you  are  not 
one  of  those  horrid  Radicals  !" 

"  There,  there  ;  do  not  excite  yourself,  mother.  I 
will  explain  everything  to  you  this  evening,"  said  he, 
soothingly. 

"  But  you  are  not  a  Radical  ?"  she  cried,  catching  his 
hand. 

"  I  am  a  man  of  honor,  always,"  he  replied,  proudly. 

"  Then  you  cannot  be  a  Radical,"  she  said,  with  a 
happy  smile. 


BREASTING  THE   TORRENT.  367 

"  But  he  is — he  is  !"  exclaimed  the  younger  lady, 
starting  forward  with  flushed  cheeks  and  pointing  a  trem 
bling  ringer  at  his  face,  as  if  she  had  detected  a  guilty 
culprit.  "  He  is  !"  she  repeated.  "  Deny  it  if  you 
iare,  Hesden  Le  Moyne  !" 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Hetty,"  said  Hesden,  turning  upon 
her  with  dignified  severity.  "  May  I  inquire  who  con 
stituted  you  either  my  judge  or  my  accuser." 

"  Oh  fie  !  Hesden,"  said  his  mother.  "  Isn't  Hetty 
one  of  the  family  ?" 

"  And  has  every  Richards  and  Le  Moyne  on  the  planet 
a  right  to  challenge  my  opinions  ?"  asked  Hesden. 

"  Certainly  !"  said  his  mother,  with  much  energy,  while 
her  pale  face  flushed,  and  her  upraised  hand  trembled — 
"  certainly  they  have,  my  son,  if  they  think  you  are 
about  to  disgrace  those  names.  But  do  deny  it  !  Do 
tell  me  you  are  not  a  Radical  !"  she  pleaded. 

"  But  suppose  I  were  ?"  he  asked,  thoughtfully. 

"  I  would  disown  you  !  I  would  disinherit  you  !  " 
shrieked  the  excited  woman,  shrinking  away  from  his 
arm  as  if  there  were  contagion  in  the  touch.  "  Remem 
ber,  sir,"  she  continued  threateningly,  "  that  Mulberry 
Hill  is  still  mine,  and  it  shall  never  go  to  a  Radical — 
never  !" 

'  There,  there,  mother  ;  do  not  excite  yourself  un 
necessarily,"  said  Hesden.  "  It  is  quite  possible  that 
both  these  matters  are  beyond  either  your  control  or 
mine." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

I  simply  mean  that  circumstances  over  which  we 
have  no  control  have  formed  my  opinions,  and  others 
over  which  we  have  as  little  control  may  affect  the  own 
ership  of  this  plantation." 

"  Why — what  in  the  world  !     Hesden,  are  you  mad? 


3^8  B  RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

You  know  that  it  is  mine  by  the  will  of  my  father  ! 
Who  or  what  could  interfere  with  my  right  ?" 

"  I  sincerely  hope  that  no  one  may,"  answered  Hes- 
den  ;  "  but  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  more  about  these 
matters  after  dinner,  when  I  promise  that  you  shall  know 
all,  without  any  reservation." 

There  had  been  a  calm,  almost  sorrowful,  demeanor 
about  Hesden  during  this  conversation,  which  had  held 
the  excited  women  unconsciously  in'  check.  They  were 
so  astonished  at  the  coolness  of  his  manner  and  the  mat 
ter-of-fact  sincerity  of  his  tones  that  they  were  quite  un 
able  to  express  the  indignation  and  abhorrence  they  both 
felt  that  his  language  merited.  Now,  however,  as  he 
moved  toward  the  door,  the  younger  lady  was  no  longer 
able  to  restrain  herself. 

"  I  knew  it  was  so  !"  she  said.  "  That  miserable 
nigger-teacher  wasn't  here  for  nothing  !  The  mean, 
low  hussy  !  I  should  think  he  would  have  been  ashamed 
to  bring  her  here  anyhow  —  under  his  mother's  very 


nose 


Hesden  had  almost  reached  the  door  of  the  room  when 
these  words  fell  upon  his  ear.  He  turned  and  strode 
across  ihe  room  until  he  stood  face  to  face  with  his 
mother  once  more.  There  was  no  lack  of  excitement 
about  him  now.  His  face  was  pale  as  death,  his  eyes 
blazed,  and  his  voice  trembled. 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  I  have  often  told  you  that  I 
would  never  bring  to  you  a  wife  whom  you  did  not  ap 
prove.  I  hope  never  to  do  so  ;  but  I  wish  to  say  oi~u 
thing  :  Miss  Ainslie  is  a  pure  and  lovely  woman.  None 
of  us  have  ever  known  her  superior.  She  is  worthy  of 
any  man's  devotion.  I  would  not  have  said  this  but  for 
what  has  been  spoken  here.  But  now  1  say,  that  if  I 
ever  hear  that  anyone  having  a  single  drop  of  our  blood 


THE  PRICE   OF  HONOR.  369 

in  her  veins  has  spoken  ill  of  her — ay,  or  if  her  name 
is  linked  with  mine  in  any  slighting  manner,  even  by 
the  breath  of  public  rurnur — I  will  make  her  my  wife 
if  she  will  accept  my  hand,  whatever  your  wishes.  And 
further,  if  any  one  speaks  slightingly  of  her,  I  will  resent 
it  as  if  she  were  my  w.ife,  so  help  me  God  ]" 

He  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  strode  out  of  the  room. 

He  had  not  once  looked  or  spoken  to  the  lady  whose 
words  had  given  the  offense.  The  mother  and  cousin 
were  overwhelmed  with  astonishment  at  the  intensify  of 
the  usually  quiet  and  complaisant  Hesden.  Miss  Hetty 
soon  made  excuses  for  returning  to  her  home,  and  Mrs. 
Le  Moyne  waited  in  dull  wonder  fortheievelation  which 
the  evening  was  to  bring.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  the 
world  had  lost  its  bearings  and  everything  must  be  afloat, 
now  that  Hesden  had  been  so  transformed  as  to  speak 
thus  harshly  to  the  mother  for  whom  his  devotion  had 
become  proverbial  all  the  country  around. 


'CHAPTER    XLVIIL 

THE     PRICE     OF      HONOR. 

WHEN  Hesden  came  to  his  mother's  room  that  night, 
his  countenance  wore  an  unusually  sad  and  thoughtful 
expression.  His  mother  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  the  morning's  interview.  The  more  she  thought 
of  it,  the  less  she  could  understand  either  his  language 
or  his  manner.  That  he  would  once  think  of  allying 
himself  in  political  thought  with  those  who  were  trying 
to  degrade  and  humiliate  their  people  by  putting  them 
upon  a  level  with  the  negro,  she  did  not  for  a  moment 
believe,  despite  what  he  had  said.  Neither  did  she  im- 


37°  £  KICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

agine,  even  then,  that  he  had  any  feeling  for  Mollie 
Ainslie  other  than  mere  gratitude  for  the  service  she 
had  rendered,  but  supposed  that  his  outburst  was  owing 
merely  to  anger  at  the  slighting  language  used  toward  her 
by  Cousin  Hetty.  Yet  she  felt  a  dim  premonition  of 
something  dreadful  about  to  happen,  and  was  ill  at  ease 
during  the  evening  meal.  When  it  was  over,  the  table 
cleared,  and  the  servant  had  retired,  Hesden  sat  quiet  for 
a  long  time,  and  then  said,  slowly  and  tenderly  : 

"  Mother,  1  am  very  sorry  that  all  these  sad  things 
should  come  up  at  this  time — so  soon  after  our  loss.  I 
know  your  heart,  as  well  as  mine,  is  sore,  and  I  wish 
you  to  be  sure  that  I  have  not,  and  cannot  have,  one  un 
kind  thought  of  you.  Do  not  cry,"  he  added,  as  he  saw 
the  tears  pouring  down  her  face,  which  was  turned  to  him 
with  a  look  of  helpless  woe  upon  it — "  do  not  cry,  little 
mother,  for  we  shall  both  of  us  have  need  of  all  our 
strength." 

"  Oh,  Hesden,"  she  moaned,  "if  you  only  would 
not — " 

"  Please  do  not  interrupt  me,"  he  said,  checking  her 
with  a  motion  of  his  hand  ;  "  I  have  a  long  story  to 
tell,  and  after  that  we  will  speak  of  what  now  troubles 
you.  But  first,  I  wish  to  ask  you  some  questions.  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  such  a  person  as  Edna  Richards  ?" 

"Edna  Richards — Edna  Richards?"  said  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne,  wiping  away  her  tears  and  speaking  between  her 
sobs.  "  It  seems  as  if  I  had,  but — I — I  can't  remember, 
my  son.  I  am  so  weak  and  nervous." 

"  Calm  yourself,  little  mother  ;  perhaps  it  will  come  to 
your  mind  if  I  ask  you  some  other  questions.  Our 
grandfather,  James  Richards,  came  here  from  Pennsyl 
vania,  did  he  not  ?" 

"  Certainly,  from  about  Lancaster.     He  always  prom- 


THE  PRICE   OF  HONOR.  371 

ised  to  take  me  to  see  our  relatives  there,  but  he  never 
did.  You  know,  son,  1  was  his  youngest  child,  and  he 
was  well  past  fifty  when  I  was  born.  So  he  was  an  old 
man  when  I  was  grown  up,  and  could  not  travel  very 
much.  He  took  me  to  the  North  twice,  but  each  time, 
before  we  got  around  to  our  Pennsylvania  friends,  he  was 
so  tired  out  that  he  had  to  come  straight  home." 

1 '  Did  you  ever  know  anything  about  his  family  there  ?' ' 

"  Not  much — nothing  except  what  he  told  me  in  his 
last  days.  He  used  to  talk  about  them  a  great  deal  then, 
but  there  was  something  that  seemed  to  grieve  and  trou 
ble  him  so  much  that  I  always  did  all  I  could  to  draw 
his  mind  away  from  the  subject.  Especially  was  this  the 
case  after  the  boys,  your  uncles,  died.  They  led  rough 
lives,  and  it  hurt  him  terribly." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  he  ever  corresponded  with 
any  of  our  relatives  at  the  North  ?" 

"  1  think  not.  I  am  sure  he  did  not  after  I  was  grown. 
He  often  spoke  of  it,  but  I  am  afraid  there  was  some 
family  trouble  or  disagreement  which  kept  him  from 
doing  so.  I  remember  in  his  last  years  he  used  frequently 
to  speak  of  a  cousin  to  whom  he  seemed  to  have  been 
very  much  attached.  He  had  the  same  name  as  father, 
who  used  to  call  him  '  Red  Jim,'  ' 

"  Was  he  then  alive  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so — at  least  when  father  last  heard  from 
him.  I  think  he  lived  in  Massachusetts.  Let  me  see, 
what  was  the  name  of  the  town.  I  don't  remember," 
after  a  pause. 

"Was  it  Marblehead  ?"  asked  the  son,  with  some 
eagerness. 

'  That's  it,  dear — Marblehead.  How  funny  that  you 
should  strike  upon  the  very  name  ?" 

"  You  think  he  never  wrote  ?" 


372  B KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sure  not.  He  mourned  about  it,  every 
now  and  then,  to  the  very  last." 

"  Was  my  grandfather  a  bachelor  when  he  came  here  ?" 

"  Of  course,  and  quite  an  old  bachelor,  too.  I  think 
he  was  about  thirty  when  he  married  your  grandmothf  r 
in  1794." 

"  She  was  a   Lomax — Margaret   Lomax,    I   believe?" 

'*  Yes  ;  that's  how  w'e  come  to  be  akin  to  all  the 
Lomax  connection." 

'  Just  so.  You  are  sure  he  had  never  married  be 
fore  ?" 

"  Sure  ?  Why,  yes,  certainly.  How  could  he  ?  Why, 
Hesden,  what  do  you  mean  ?  Why  do  you  ask  all  these 
questions?  You  do  not — you  cannot —  Oh,  Hesden  !" 
she  exclaimed,  leaning  forward  and  trembling  with  ap 
prehension. 

"  Be  calm,  mother.  I  am  not  asking  these  questions 
without  good  cause,"  he  answered,  very  gravely. 

After  a  moment,  when  she  had  recovered  herself  a 
little,  he  continued,  holding  toward  her  a  slip  of  paper, 
as  he  asked  : 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  signature  before  ?" 

His  mother  took  the  paper,  and,  having  wiped  her 
glasses,  adjusted  them  carefully  and  glanced  at  the  paper. 
As  she  did  so  a  cry  burst  from  her  lips,  and  she  said, 

"  Oh,  Hesden,  Hesden,  where  did  you  get  it  ?  Ob, 
dear  !  oh,  dear  !" 

"  Why,  mother,  what  is  it  ?"  cried  Hesden  in  alarm, 
springing  up  and  going  quickly  to  her  side. 

1  That — that  horrid  thing,  Hesden  !  Where  dfc/you 
get  it  ?  Do  you  know  it  was  that  which  made  that  terri 
ble  quarrel  between  your  grandfather  and  Uncle  John, 
when  he  struck  him  that — that  last  night,  before  John's 
body  was  found  in  the  river.  He  was  drowned  crossing  the 


THE   PRICE   OF  HONOR.  373 

ford,  you  know.  I  don't  know  what  it  was  all  about  ; 
but  there  was  a  terrible  quarrel,  and  John  wrote  that  on 
a  sheet  of  paper  and  held  it  before  your  grandfather's 
face  and  said  something  to  him — I  don't  know  what.  I 
was  only  a  little  girl  then,  but,  ah  me  !  I  remember  it 
as  if  it  was  but  yesterday.  And  then  father  struck  him 
with  his  cane.  John  fell  as  if  he  were  dead.  I  was  look 
ing  in  at  the  window,  not  thinking  any  harm,  and  saw 
it  all.  I  thought  he  had  killed  John,  and  ran  away, 
determined  not  to  tell.  1  never  breathed  a  lisp  of  it  be 
fore,  son,  and  nobody  ever  knew  of  that  quarrel,  only  your 
grandfather  and  me.  I  know  it  troubled  him  greatly 
after  John  died.  Oh,  I  can  see  that  awful  paper,  as 
John  held  it  up  to  the  light,  as  plain  as  this  one  in  my 
hand  now." 

The  slip  of  paper  which  she  held  contained  only  the 
following  apparently  unintelligible  scrawl  : 


"  And  you  never  saw  it  but  once?"  asked  Hesden, 
thoughtfully. 

"  Never  but  once  before  to-night,  dear." 
"  It  was  not  Uncle  John's  usual  signature,  then  ?" 
"No,  indeed.     Is  it  a  signature?     She  glanced  curi 
ously  at  the  paper  while  Hesden  pointed  out  the  letters, 


J 


11  That  is  what  I  take  it  to  be,  at  least,"  he  said. 
"  Sure  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  "  and  that  might 
stand  for  John  Richards  or  James  Richards.  It  might 
be  Uncle  John  or  your  grandfather,  either,  child." 


374  flKICk'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

1  True,  but  grandfather  always  wrote  his  name  plainlv, 
J.  RICHARDS.  I  have  seen  a  thousand  of  his  signatures,  I 
reckon.  Besides,  Uncle  John  was  not  alive  in  1790." 

11  Of  course  not.  But  what  has  that  to  do  with  the 
matter?  What  does  it  all  mean  anyhow?  There  must 
be  some  horrid  secret  about  it,  I  am  sure." 

"I  do  not  know  what  it  means,  mother,  but  I 
am  determined  to  find  out.  That  is  what  I  have  been  at 
all*  day,  and  I  will  not  stop  until  1  know  all  about 
it." 

"  But  how  did  you  come  to  find  it  ?  What  makes  you 
think  there  is  anything  to  be  known  about  it  ?" 

"  This  is  the  way  it  occurred,  mother.  The  other  day 
it  became  necessary  to  cut  a  door  from  the  chamber  over 
my  room  into  the  attic  of  the  old  kitchen,  where  I  have 
been  storing  the  tobacco.  You  know  the  part  containing 
the  dining-room  was  the  original  house,  and  was  at  first 
built  of  hewed  logs.  It  was,  in  fact,  two  houses,  with  a 
double  chimney  in  the  middle.  Afterward,  the  two  parts 
were  made  into  one,  the  rude  stairs  torn  away,  and  the 
whole  thing  ceiled  within  and  covered  with  thick  pine 
siding  without.  In  cutting  through  this,  Charles  found 
between  two  of  the  old  logs  and  next  to  the  chinking 
put  in  on  each  side  to  keep  the  wall  flush  and  smooth, 
apocketbook,  carefully  tied  up  in  a  piece  of  coarse  linen, 
and  containing  a  yellow,  dingy  paper,  which,  although 
creased  and  soiled,  was  still  clearly  legible.  The  writing 
was  of  that  heavy  round  character  which  marked  the 
legal  hand  of  the  old  time,  and  the  ink,  though  its  color 
had  somewhat  changed  by  time,  seemed  to  show  by  con 
trast  with  the  dull  hue  of  the  page  .even  more  clearly 
than  it  could  have  done  when  first  written.  The  paper 
proved  to  be  a  will,  drawn  up  in  legal  form  and  signed 
with  the  peculiar  scrawl  of  which  you  hold  a  tracing.  It 


THE  PRICE   OF  HONOR.  375 

purported  to  have  been  made  and  published  in  Decem 
ber,  1789,  at  Lancaster,  in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania,  and 
to  have  been  witnessed  by  James  Adiger  and  Johan 
Welliker  of  that  town." 

"  How  very  strange  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Le  Moyne. 
"  I  suppose  it  must  have  been  the  will  of  your  grand 
father's  father." 

*  That  was  what  first  occurred  to  me, "  answered  Hes- 
den,  "  but  on  closer  inspection  it  proved  to  be  the  will 
of  James  Richards,  as  stated  in  the  caption,  of  Marble- 
head,  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  giving  and  bequeath 
ing  all  of  his  estate,  both  real  and  personal,  after  some 
slight  bequests,  to  his  beloved  wife  Edna,  except — " 

"  Stop,  my  son,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  quickly,  "  I 
remember  now.  Edna  was  the  name  of  the  wife  of 
father's  cousin  James — "  Red  Jim,"  he  called  him.  It 
was  about  writing  to  her  he  was  always  talking  toward 
the  last.  So  I  suppose  he  must  have  been  dead." 

"  I  had  come  to  much  the  same  conclusion,"  said  Hes- 
den,  "  though  I  never  heard  that  grandfather  had  a 
cousin  James  until  to-night.  I  should  never  have 
thought  any  more  of  the  document,  however,  except  as 
an  old  relic,  if  it  had  not  gone  on  to  bequeath  particu 
larly  '  my  estate  in  Carolina  to  my  beloved  daughter, 
Alice  E.,  when  she  shall  arrive  at  the  age  of  eighteen 
years,'  and  to  provide  for  the  succession  in  case  of  her 
death  prior  to  that  time. ' ' 

'  That  is  strange,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne.  "  I  never 
knew  that  we  had  any  relatives  in  the  State  upon  that 
side." 

"  That  is  what  I  thought,"  said  the  son.  "  I  won 
dered  where  the  estate  was  which  had  belonged  to  this 
James  Richards,  who  was  not  our  ancestor,  and,  looking 
further,  I  found  it  described  with  considerable  partic- 


376  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

larity.  It  was  called  Stillwater,  and  was  said  to  be  lo 
cated  on  the  waters  of  the  Hyco,  in  Williams  County." 

"  But  the  Hyco  is  not  in  Williams  County,"  said  his 
listener. 

"  No,  mother,  but  it  was  then,"  he  replied.  "  You 
know  that  county  has  been  many  times  subdivided." 

"  Yes,  1  had  forgotten  that,"  she  said.  "  But  what 
then  ?" 

"  It  went  on,"  contined  Hesden,  "  to  say  that  he  held 
this  land  by  virtue  of  a  grant  from  the  State  which  was 
recorded  in  Registry  of  Deeds  in  Williams  County,  in 
Book  A,  page  391." 

"  It  is  an  easy  matter  to  find  where  it  was,  then,  I  sup 
pose,"  said  the  mother. 

"  I  have  already  done  that,"  he  replied,  "  and  that  is 
the  strange  and  unpleasant  part  of  what  I  had  to  tell 
you." 

"  I  do  hope,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  that  you  have  not 
made  us  out  cousins  of  any  low-down  family." 

"  As  to  that  I  cannot  tell,  mother  ;  but  1  am  afraid  I 
have  found  something  discreditable  in  our  own  family 
history." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not,  Hesden,"  she  said,  plaintively. 
4 '  It  is  so  unpleasant  to  look  back  upon  one's  ancestors 
and  not  feel  that  they  were  strictly  honorable.  Don't 
tell  me,  please.  I  had  rather  not  hear  it." 

"  I  wish  you  might  not,"  said  he  ;  "  but  the  fact  which 
you  referred  to  to-da> — that  you  are,  under  the  will  of 
my  grandfather,  the  owner  of  Mulberry  Hill,  makes  it 
necessary  that  you  should." 

11  Please,  Hesden,  don't  mention  that.  I  was  angry 
then.  Please  forget  it.  What  can  that  have  to  do  with 
this  horrid  matter  ?" 

M  It  has  this  to  do  with  it,  mother,"  he  replied.      "  The 


THE   PRICE    OF  HONOR.  377 

boundaries  of  that  grant,  as  shown  by  the  record,  are 
identical  with  the  record  of  the  grant  under  which  our 
grandfather  claimed  the  estate  of  which  this  is  a  part,  and 
which  is  one  of  the  first  entered  upon  the  records  of 
Horsford  County." 

"  What  do  you  say,  Hesden  ?  I  don't  understand 
you,"  said  his  mother,  anxiously. 

"  Simply  that  the  land  bequeathed  in  this  will  of  J. 
Richards,  is  the  same  as  that  afterward  claimed  and  held 
by  my  grandfather,  James  Richards,  and  in  part  now 
belonging  to  you." 

"  It  cannot  be,  Hesden,  it  cannot  be  !  There  must 
be  some  mistake  !"  she  exclaimed,  impatiently. 

"  I  wish  there  were,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  fear  there 
is  not.  The  will  names  as  executor,  '  my  beloved  cousin 
James  Richards,  of  the  borough  of  Lancaster,  in  the 
State  of  Pennsylvania.'  I  presume  this  to  have  been  my 
grandfather.  I  have  had  the  records  of  both  counties 
searched  and  find  no  record  of  any  administration  upon 
this  will." 

•"  You  do  not  think  a  Richards  could  have  been  so 
dishonorable  as  to  rob  his  cousin's  orphans  ?" 

"  Alas  !  mother,  I  only  know  that  we  have  always 
claimed  title  under  that  very  grant.  The  grant  itself  is 
among  your  papers  in  my  desk,  and  is  dated  in  1789.  I 
have  always  understood  that  grandfather  married  soon 
after  coming  here." 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  have  heard  mother 
tell  of  it  a  hundred  times." 

"  And  that  was  in  1794  ?" 

"Yes,  yes;  but  he  might  have  been  here  before, 
child." 

"  That  is  true,  and  I  hope  it  may  all  turn  out  to  have 
been  only  a  strange  mistake." 


378  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  But  if  it  does  not,  Hesden  ?"  said  his  mother,  after 
a  moment's  thought.  "  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?" 

"  I  mean  first  to  go  to  the  bottom  of  this  matter  and 
discover  the  truth." 

"  And  then — if — if  there  was — anything  wrong  ?" 
1  Then  the  wrong  must  be  righted." 

"  But  that — why,  Hesden,  it  might  turn  us  out  of 
doors  !  It  might  make  us  beggars  !" 

"  We  should  at  least  be  honest  ones." 

"  But  Hesden,  think  of  me — think — "  she  began. 

"  So  I  will,  little  mother,  of  you  and  for  you  till  the 
last  hour  of  your  life  or  of  mine.  But  mother,  I  would 
rather  you  should  leave  all  and  suffer  all,  and  that  we 
should  both  die  of  starvation,  than  that  we  should  live 
bounteously  on  the  fruit  of  another's  wrong."  He  bent 
over  her  and  kissed  her  tenderly  again  and  again.  ' '  Never 
fear,  mother,"  he  said,  "  we  may  lose  all  else  by  the  acts 
of  others,  but  we  can  only  lose  honor  by  our  own.  I 
would  give  my  life  for  you  or  to  save  your  honor." 

She  looked  proudly  upon  him,  and  reached  up  her  thin 
white  hand  to  caress  his  face,  as  she  said  with  over 
flowing  eyes  : 

"  You  are  right,  my  son  !  If  others  of  our  name  have 
done  wrong,  there  is  all  the  more  need  that  we  should  do 
right  and  atone  for  it." 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

HIGHLY     RESOLVED. 

MOLLIE  AINSLIE  had  made  all  her  preparations  to  leave 
Red  Wing.  She  had  investigated  the  grounds  of  the 
suit  brought  by  Winburn  against  Nimbus  and  others. 
Indeed,  she  found  herself  named  among  the  "  others/' 


HIGHLY  RESOLVED.  379 

as  well  as  all  those  who  had  purchased  from  Nimbus  or 
were  living  on  the  tract  by  virtue  of  license  from  him. 
Captain  Pardee  had  soon  informed  her  that  the  title  of 
Nimbus  was,  in  fact,  only  a  life-estate,  which  had  fallen 
in  by  the  death  of  the  life  tenant,  while  Winburn  claimed 
to  have  bought  up  the  interests  of  the  reversioners.  He 
intimated  that  it  was  possible  that  Winburn  had  done  this 
while  acting  as  the  agent  of  Colonel  Desmit,  but  this  was 
probably  not  susceptible  of  proof,  on  account  of  the 
death  of  Desmit.  He  only  stated  it  as  a  conjecture  at 
best. 

At  the  same  time,  he  informed  her  that  the  small  tract 
about  the  old  ordinary,  which  had  come  to  Nimbus  by 
purchase,  and  which  was  all  that  she  occupied,  was  not 
included  in  the  life-estate,  but  was  held  in  fee  by  Walter 
Greer.  She  had  therefore  instructed  him  to  defend  for 
her  upon  Nimbus's  title,  more  for  the  sake  of  asserting 
his  right  than  on  account  of  the  value  of  the  premises. 
The  suit  was  for  possession  and  damages  for  detention 
and  injury  of  the  property,  and  an  attachment  had  been 
taken  out  against  Nimbus's  property,  on  the  claim  for 
damages,  as  a  non-resident  debtor.  As  there  seemed  to 
be  no  good  ground  for  defense  on  the  part  of  those  who 
had  purchased  under  Nimbus,  the  attorney  advised  that 
resistance  to  the  suit  would  be  useless.  Thus  they  lost 
at  once  the  labor  of  their  whole  life  of  freedom,  and 
were  compelled  to  begin  again  where  slavery  had  left 
them.  This,  taken  in  connection  with  the  burning  of 
the  church,  the  breaking  up  of  the  school,  and  the  ab 
sence  of  Eliab  and  Nimbus,  had  made  the  once  happy 
and  busy  little  village  most  desolate  and  forlorn. 

The  days  which  Mollie  Ainslie  had  passed  in  the  old 
hostel  since  she  left  Mulberry  Hill  had  been  days  of  sor 
row.  Tears  and  moans  and  tales  of  anxious  fear  had 


380  B KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

been  in  her  ears  continually.  All  over  the  county,  the 
process  of  "  redemption"  was  being  carried  on.  The 
very  air  was  full  of  horrors.  Men  with  bleeding  backs, 
women  with  scarred  and  mutilated  forms,  came  to  her 
to  seek  advice  and  consolation.  Night  after  night,  de 
voted  men,  who  did  not  dare  to  sleep  in  their  own 
homes,  kept  watch  around  her,  in  order  that  her  slum 
bers  might  be  undisturbed.  It  seemed  as  if  all  law  had 
been  forgotten,  and  only  a  secret  Klan  had  power  in  the 
land.  She  did  not  dare,  brave  as  she  was,  to  ride  alone 
outside  of  the  little  village.  She  did  not  really  think  she 
would  be  harmed,  yet  she  trembled  when  the  night  came, 
and  every  crackling  twig  sent  her  heart  into  her  mouth  in 
fear  lest  the  chivalric  masqueraders  should  come  to  fulfil 
their  vague  threats  against  herself.  But  her  heart  bled 
for  the  people  she  had  served,  and  whom  she  saw  bowed 
down  under  the  burden  of  a  terrible,  haunting  fear. 

If  she  failed  to  make  due  allowance  for  that  savageness 
of  nature  which  generations  of  slavery  are  sure  to  beget  in 
the  master,  let  us  not  blame  her.  She  was  only  a  woman, 
and  saw  only  what  was  before  her.  She  did  not  see  how 
the  past  injected  itself  into  the  present,  and  gave  it  tone 
and  color.  She  reasoned  only  from  what  met  her  sight. 
It  is  not  strange  that  she  felt  bitterly  toward  those 
who  had  committed  such  seemingly  vandal  acts.  No 
wonder  she  spoke  bitterly,"  wrote  hard  things  to  her 
Northern  friends,  and  denied  the  civilization  and  Christ 
tianity  of  those  who  could  harry,  oppress,  and  destroy 
the  poor,  the  ignorant,  and  the  weak.  It  is  not  sur 
prising  that  she  sneered  at  the  "  Southern  Gentleman," 
or  that  she  wrote  him  down  in  very  black  characters  in 
the  book  and  volume  of  her  memory.  She  was  not  a 
philosopher  nor  a  politician,  and  she  had  never  speculated 
on  the  question  as  to  how  near  of  kin  virtue  and  vice 


HIGHLY  RESOLVED.  381 

may  be.  She  had  never  considered  how  narrow  a  space 
it  is  that  very  often  divides  the  hero  from  the  criminal, 
the  patriot  from  the  assassin,  the  gentleman  from  the 
ruffian,  the  Christian  saint  from  the  red-handed  savage. 
Her  heart  was  hot  with  wrath  and  her  tongue  was  tipped 
with  bitterness. 

For  the  first  time  she  blushed  at  the  thought  of  her 
native  land.  That  the  great,  free,  unmatched  Republic 
should  permit  these  things,  should  shut  its  eyes  and  turn 
its  back  upon  its  helpless  allies  in  their  hour  of  peril, 
was  a  most  astounding  and  benumbing  fact  to  her  mind. 
What  she  had  loved  with  all  that  tenacity  of  devotion 
which  every  Northern  heart  has  for  the  flag  and  the 
country,  was  covered  with  ignominy  by  these  late  events. 
She  blushed  with  shame  as  she  thought  of  the  weak, 
vacillating  nation  which  had  given  the  promise  of  free 
dom  to  the  ears  of  four  millions  of  weak  but  trustful 
allies,  and  broken  it  to  their  hearts.  She  knew  that  the 
country  had  appealed  to  them  in  its  hour  of  mortal 
agony,  and  they  had  answered  with  their  blood.  She 
knew  that  again  it  had  appealed  to  them  for  aid  to  write 
the  golden  words  of  Freedom  in  its  Constitution,  words 
before  unwritten,  in  order  that  they  might  not  be  con 
tinued  in  slavery,  and  they  had  heard  and  answered  by 
their  votes  ;  and  then,  while  the  world  still  echoed 
with  boastings  of  these  achievements,  it  had  taken  away 
the  protecting  hand  and  said  to  those  whose  hearts  were 
full  of  hate,  "  Stay  not  thine  hand." 

She  thought,  too,  that  the  men  who  did  these  things 
— the  midnight  masqueraders — were  rebels  still  in  their 
hearts.  She  called  them  so  in  hers  at  least — enemies  of 
the  country,  striving  dishonorably  to  subvert  its  laws. 
She  did  not  keep  in  mind  that  to  every  Southern  man 
and  woman,  save  those  whom  the  national  act  brought 


382  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

forth  to  civil  life,  the  Nation  is  a  thing  remote  and  sec 
ondary.  To  them  the  State  is  first,  and  always  so  far 
first  as  to  make  the  country  a  dim,  distant  cloud,  to  be 
watched  with  suspicion  or  aversion  as  a  something  hos 
tile  to  their  State  or  section.  The  Northern  mind  thinks 
of  the  Nation  first.  The  love  of  country  centers  there. 
His  pride  in  his  native  State  is  as  a  part  of  the  whole. 
As  a  Northerner,  he  has  no  feeling  at  all.  He  never 
speaks  of  his  section  except  awkwardly,  and  when  refer 
ence  to  it  is  made  absolutely  necessary  by  circumstances. 
He  may  be  from  the  East  or  the  West  or  the  Middle, 
from  Maine  or  Minnesota,  but  he  is  first  of  all  things  an 
American.  Mollie  thought  that  the  result  of  the  war — 
defeat  and  destruction — ought  to  have  made  the  white 
people  of  the  South  just  such  Americans.  In  fact  it  never 
occurred  to  her  simple  heart  but  that  they  had  always  been 
such.  In  truth,  she  did  not  conceive  that  they  could 
have  been  otherwise.  She  had  never  dreamed  that  there 
were  any  Americans  with  whom  it  was  not  the  first  and 
ever-present  thought  that  they  were  Americans. 

She  might  have  known,  if  she  had  thought  so  far,  that 
in  that  mystically-bounded  region  known  as  "  the 
South,"  the  people  were  first  of  all  "  Southerners  ;"  next 
"  Georgians,"  or  "  Virginians,"  or  whatever  it  might 
be  ;  and  last  and  lowest  in  the  scale  of  political  being, 
"Americans."  She  might  have  known  this  had  she  but 
noted  how  the  word  "  Southern"  leaps  into  prominence 
as  soon  as  the  old  "  Mason  and  Dixon's  line"  is  crossed. 
There  are  "  Southern"  hotels  and  "  Southern"  railroads, 
"  Southern"  steamboats,  "  Southern"  stage-coaches, 
"  Southern"  express  companies,  "  Southern"  books, 
"  Southern"  newspapers,  "  Southern"  patent-medicines, 
"  Southern"  churches,  "  Southern"  manners,  "  South 
ern"  gentlemen,  "Southern"  ladies,  "Southern"  res- 


IIIGHL  Y  RESOL  VED.  383 

tau rants,  "  Southern"  bar-rooms,  "  Southern"  whisky, 
"Southern"  gambling-hells,  "Southern"  principles, 
"  Southern"  everything !  Big  or  little,  good  or  bad, 
everything  that  courts  popularity,  patronage  or  applause, 
makes  haste  to  brand  itself  as  distinctively  and  especial 
ly  "  Southern.' 

Then  she  might  have  remembered  that  in  all  the  North 
— the  great,  busy,  bustling,  over-confident,  giantly  Great- 
heart  of  the  continent — there  is  not  to  be  found  a  single 
"  Northern"  hotel,  steamer,  railway,  stage-coach,  bar 
room,  restaurant,  school,  university,  school-book,  or  any 
other  "  Northern"  institution.  The  word  "  Northern"  is 
no  master-key  to  patronage  or  approval.  There  is  no 
"  Northern"  clannishness,  and  no  distinctive  "  North 
ern"  sentiment  that  prides  itself  on  being  such.  The 
"  Northern"  man  may  be  *'  Eastern"  or  "  Western." 
He  may  be  "Knickerbocker,"  "  Pennamite,"  "Buck 
eye,"  or  "  Hoosier  ;"  but  above  all  things,  and  first  of 
all  things  in  his  allegiance  and  his  citizenship,  he  is  an 
American.  The  "  Southern"  man  is  proud  of  the  Na 
tion  chiefly  because  it  contains  his  section  and  State  ;  the 
"  Northern"  man  is  proud  of  his  section  and  State  chiefly 
because  it  is  a  part  of  the  Nation. 

But  Mollie  Ainslie  did  not  stop  to  think  of  these  differ 
ences,  or  of  the  bias  which  habit  gives  to  the  noblest 
mind  ;  and  so  her  heart  was  full  of  wrath  and  much 
bitterness.  She  had  forgiven  coldness,  neglect,  and 
aspersion  of  herself,  but  she  could  not  forgive  brutality 
and  violence  toward  the  weak  and  helpless.  She  saw  the 
futility  of  hope  of  aid  from  the  Nation  that  had  deserted 
its  allies.  She  felt,  on  the  other  hand,  the  folly  of 
expecting  any  change  in  a  people  steeped  in  intolerance 
and  gloating  in  the  triumph  of  lawless  violence  over  ob 
noxious  law.  She  thought  she  saw  that  there  was  but  little 


XAVCA'S   WITHOUT   STRAW. 

hope  for  that  people  for  whom  she  had  toiled  so  faith 
fully  to  grow  to  the  full  stature  of  the  free  man  in  the  re 
gion  where  they  had  been  slaves.  She  was  short-sighted 
and  impatient,  but  she  was  earnest  and  intense.  She 
had  done  much  thinking  in  the  sorrowful  days  just  past, 
and  had  made  up  her  mind  that  whatsoever  others  might 
do,  she,  Mollie  Ainslie,  would  do  her  duty. 

The  path  seemed  plain  to  her.  She  had  been,  as  it 
seemed  to  her,  mysteriously  led,  step  by  step,  along 
the  way  of  life,  always  with  blindfolded  eyes  and  feet 
that  sought  not  to  go  in  the  way  they  were  constrained 
to  take.  Her  father  and  mother  dead,  her  brother's 
illness  brought  her  to  the  South  ;  there  his  wish  detained 
her  ;  a  seeming  chance  brought  her  to  Red  Wing  ;  duties 
and  cares  had  multiplied  with  her  capacity  ;  the  cup  of 
love,  after  one  sweet  draught,  had  been  dashed  from  her 
lips  ;  desolation  and  destruction  had  come  upon  the 
scene  of  her  labors,  impoverishment  and  woe  upon  these 
with  whom  she  had  been  associated,  and  a  hopeless  fate 
upon  all  the  race  to  which  they  belonged  in  the  land 
wherein  they  were  born. 

She  did  not  propose  to  change  these  things.  She  did 
not  aspire  to  set  on  foot  any  great  movement  or  do  any 
great  deed,  but  she  felt  that  she  was  able  to  succor  a  few 
of  the  oppressed  race.  Those  who  most  needed  help  and 
best  deserved  it,  among  the  denizens  of  Red  Wing,  she 
determined  to  aid  in  going  to  a  region  where  thought  at 
least  was  free.  It  seemed  to  her  altogether  providential 
that  at  this  time  she  had  still,  altogether  untouched,  the 
few  thousands  which  Oscar  had  given  her  of  his  army 
earnings,  and  also  the  little  homestead  on  the  Massa 
chusetts  hills,  toward  which  a  little  town  had  been  rapidly 
growing  during  the  years  of  unwonted  prosperity  suc 
ceeding  the  war,  until  now  its  value  was  greatly  increased 


HIGHLY  RESOLVED.  385 

from  what  it  was  but  a  few  years  before.  She  found 
she  was  quite  an  heiress  when  she  came  to  take  an 
inventory  of  her  estate,  and  made  up  her  mind  that 
she  would  use  this  estate  to  carry  out  her  new  idea.  She 
did  not  yet  know  the  how  or  the  where,  but  she  had  got  it 
into  her  simple  brain  that  somewhere  and  somehow  this 
money  might  be  invested  so  as  to  afford  a  harbor  of 
refuge  for  these  poor  colored  people,  and  still  not  leave 
herself  unprovided  for.  She  had  not  arranged  the 
method,  but  she  had  fully  determined  on  the  undertaking. 
This  was  the  thought  of  Mollie  Ainslie  as  she  sat  in 
her  room  at  the  old  ordinary,  one  afternoon,  nearly  two 
weeks  after  her  departure  from  the  Le  Moyne  mansion. 
She  had  quite  given  up  all  thought  of  seeing  Hesden 
again.  She  did  not  rave  or  moan  over  her  disappoint 
ment.  It  had  been  a  sharp  and  bitter  experience  when 
she  waked  out  of  the  one  sweet  dream  of  her  life.  She 
saw  that  it  was  but  a  dream,  foolish  and  wild  ;  but  she 
had  no  idea  of  dying  of  a  broken  heart.  Indeed,  she  did 
not  know  that  her  heart  was  broken.  She  had  loved  a 
man  whom  she  had  fancied  as  brave  and  gentle  as  she 
could  desire  her  other  self  to  be.  She  had  neither 
proffered  her  love  to  him  nor  concealed  it.  She 
was  not  ashamed  that  she  loved  nor  ashamed  that 
he  should  know  it,  as  she  believed  he  did.  She 
thought  he  must  have  known  it,  even  though  she 
did  not  herself  realize  it  at  the  time.  If  he  had  been 
that  ideal  man  whom  she  loved,  he  would  have  come 
before,  claimed  her  love,  and  declared  his  own.  That 
man  could  never  have  let  her  go  alone  into  desolation 
and  danger  without  following  at  once  to  inquire  after 
her.  It  was  not  that  she  needed  his  protection,  but  she 
had  desired — nay,  expected  as  a  certainty — that  he  would 
come  and  proffer  it.  The  ideal  of  her  love  would  have 


386  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAIV. 

done  so.  If  Hesden  Le  Moyne  had  come  then,  she 
would  have  given  her  life  into  his  keeping  forever  after, 
without  the  reservation  of  a  thought.  That  he  did  not 
come  only  showed  that  he  was  not  her  ideal,  not  the  one 
she  had  loved,  but  only  the  dim  likeness  of  that  one.  It 
was  so  much  the  worse  for  Mr.  Hesden  Le  Moyne, 
but  none  the  worse  for  Mollie  Ainslie.  She  still  loved 
her  ideal,  but  knew  now  that  it  was  only  an  ideal. 

Thus  she  mused,  although  less  explicitly,  as  the 
autumn  afternoon  drew  to  its  close.  She  watched  the 
sun  sinking  to  his  rest,  and  reflected  that  she  would  see 
him  set  but  once  more  over  the  pines  that  skirted  Red 
Wing.  There  was  but  little  more  to  be  done — a  few 
things  to  pack  up,  a  few  sad  farewells  to  be  said,  and 
then  she  would  turn  her  face  towards  the  new  life  she 
had  set  her  heart  upon. 

There  was  a  step  upon  the  path.  She  heard  her  own 
name  spoken  and  heard  the  reply  of  the  colored  woman, 
who  was  sitting  on  the  porch.  Her  heart  stopped  beating 
as  the  footsteps  approached  her  door.  She  thought  her 
face  flushed  burning  red,  but  in  reality  it  was  of  a  hard, 
pallid  gray  as  she  looked  up  and  saw  Hesden  Le  Moyne 
standing  in  the  doorway. 


CHAPTER    L. 

FACE    ANSWERETH    TO    FACE. 

do  you  do,  Miss  Mollie  ?" 
She  caught  her  breath  as  she  heard  his    ringing  tone 
and  noted  his  expectant  air.   Oh,  if  he  had  only  come  be 
fore  !     If  he  had  not  left  her  to  face  alone — he  knew  not 
what  peril  !     But  he  had  done  so,  and  she  could  not 


FACE  ANSWERETII    TO  I'" ACE.  387 

forget  it.  So  she  went  forward,  and,  extending  her 
hand,  took  his  without  a  throb  as  she  said,  demurely, 

"  I  am  very  well,  Mr.  Le  Moyne.  How  are  you,  and 
how  have  you  left  all  at  home  ?" 

She  led  the  way  back  to  the  table  and  pointed  to  a 
chair  opposite  her  own  as  she  spoke. 

Hesden  Le  Moyne  had  grown  to  love  Mollie  Ainslie 
almost  as  unconsciously  as  she  had  given  her  heart  to 
him.  The  loss  of  his  son  had  been  a  sore  affliction. 
While  he  had  known  no  passionate  love  for  his  cousin- 
wife,  he  yet  had  had  the  utmost  respect  for  her,  and 
had  never  dreamed  that  there  were  in  his  heart  deeper 
depths  of  love  still  unexplored.  After  her  death, 
his  mother  and  his  child  seemed  easily  and  nat 
urally  to  fill  his  heart.  He  had  admired  Mollie  Ainslie 
from  the  first.  His  attention  had  been  first  particularly 
directed  to  her  accomplishments  and  attractions  by  the 
casual  conversation  with  Pardee  in  reference  to  her,  and 
by  the  fact  that  the  horse  she  rode  was  his  old  favorite. 
He  had  watched  her  at  first  critically,  then  admiringly, 
and  finally  with  an  unconscious  yearning  which  he  did 
not  define. 

The  incident  of  the  storm  and  the  bright  picture  she 
made  in  his  somewhat  somber  home  had  opened  his  eyes 
as  to  his  real  feelings.  At  the  same  time  had  come  the 
knowledge  that  there  was  a  wide  gulf  between  them,  but 
he  would  have  bridged  it  long  before  now  had  it  not  been 
for  his  affliction,  which,  while  it  drew  him  nearer  to  the 
object  of  his  devotion  than  he  had  ever  been  before,  also 
raised  an  imperative  barrier  against  words  of  love. 
Then  the  time  of  trial  came.  He  found  himself  likely  to 
be  stripped  of  all  hope  of  wealth,  and  he  had  been 
goaded  into  declaring  to  others  his  love  for  Mollie, 
although  he  had  never  whispered  a  word  of  it  to  her. 


388  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Since  that  time,  however,  despite  his  somewhat  dismal 
prospects,  he  had  allowed  his  fancy  greater  play.  He 
had  permitted  himself  to  dream  that  some  time  and 
somehow  he  might  be  permitted  to  call  Mollie  Ainslie 
his  wife.  She  seemed  so  near  to  him  !  There  was  such 
a  calm  in  her  presence  ! 

He  had  never  doubted  that  his  passion  was  recipro 
cated.  He  thought  that  he  had  looked  down  into  her 
heart  through  the  soft,  gray  eyes,  and  seen  himself. 
She  had  never  manifested  any  consciousness  of  love, 
but  in  those  dear  days  at  the  Hill  she  had  seemed  to 
come  so  close  to  him  that  he  thought  of  her  love  as  a 
matter  of  course,  as  much  so  as  if  it  had  been  already 
plighted.  He  felt  too  that  her  instinct  had  been  as  keen 
as  his  own,  and  that  she  must  have  discovered  the  love 
he  had  taken  no  pains  to  conceal.  But  the  events  which 
had  occurred  since  she  went  to  Red  Wing  had  to  his 
mind  forbidden  any  further  expression  of  this  feeling. 
For  her  sake  as  well  as  for  his  own  honor  it  must  be  put 
aside.  He  had  no  wish  to  conceal  or  deny  it.  The 
fact  that  he  must  give  her  up  was  the  hardest  element  of 
the  sacrifice  which  the  newly  discovered  will  might  re 
quire  at  his  hands. 

So  he  had  come  to  tell  her  all,  and  he  hoped  that  she 
would  see  where  honor  led  him,  and  would  hold  him 
excused  from  saying,  "  I  love  you.  Will  you  be  my 
wife?"  He  believed  that  she  would,  and  that  they 
would  part  without  distrust  and  with  unabated  esteem 
for  each  other.  Never,  until  this  moment,  had  he 
thought  otherwise.  Perhaps  he  was  not  without  hope 
still,  but  it  was  not  such  as  could  be  allowed  to  control 
his  action.  He  could  not  say  now  why  it  was  ; 
he  could  not  tell  what  was  lacking,  but  somehow 
there  seemed  to  have  been  a  change.  She  was  so  far 


FACE  ANSWERRTII    TO  FACE,  389 

away — so  intangible.  It  was  the  same  lithe  form,  the 
same  bright  face,  the  same  pleasant  voice  ;  but  the 
life,  the  soul,  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  the  familiar 
presence. 

He  sat  and  watched  her  keenly,  wonderingly,  as  they 
chatted  for  a  moment  of  his  mother.  Then  he  said  : 

"  We  have  had  strange  happenings  at  Mulberry  Hill 
since  you  left  us,  Miss  Mollie." 

"  You  don't  tell  me  !"  she  said  laughingly.  "  I  can 
not  conceive  such  a  thing  possible.  Dear  me  !  How 
strange  to  think  of  anything  out  of  the  common  happening 
there  !" 

The  tone  and  the  laugh  hurt  him. 

"  Indeed,"  said  he,  gravely,  "  except  for  that  I  should 
have  made  my  appearance  here  long  ago." 

"  You  are  very  kind.  And  I  assure  you,  I  am  grate 
ful  that  you  did  not  entirely  forget  me.'  Her  tone  was 
mocking,  but  her  look  was  so  guileless  as  almost  to 
make  him  disbelieve  his  ears. 

"  I  assure  you,  Miss  Mollie,"  said  he,  earnestly,  "  you 
do  me  injustice.  1  was  so  closely  engaged  that  I  was 
not  even  aware  of  your  departure  until  the  second  day 
afterward. ' ' 

He  meant  this  to  show  how  serious  were  the  matters 
which  claimed  his  attention.  To  him  it  was  the  strong 
est  possible  proof  of  their  urgency.  But  she  remem 
bered  her  exultant  ride  to  Red  Wing,  and  said  to- 
herself,  "  And  he  did  not  think  of  me  for  two  whole 
days  !"  As  she  listened  to  his  voice,  her  heart  had  been 
growing  soft  despite  her  ;  but  it  was  hard  enough  now. 
So  she  smiled  artlessly,  and  said  : 

"  Only  two  days?  -Why,  Mr.  Le  Moyne,  I  thought  it 
was  two  weeks.  That  was  how  I  excused  you.  Charles 
said  you  were  too  busy  to  ride  with  me  ;  your  mother 


39°  & KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

wrote  that  you  were  too  busy  to  ask  after  me  ;  and  I  sup 
posed  you  had  been  too  busy  to  think  of  me,  ever  since." 

"  Now,  Miss  Mollie, "  said  he,  in  a  tone  of  earnest 
remonstrance,  "  please  do  not  speak  in  that  way. 
Things  of  the  utmost  importance  have  occurred,  and  I 
came  over  this  evening  to  tell  you  of  them.  You,  per 
haps,  think  that  I  have  been  neglectful." 

"  I  had  no  right  to  demand  anything  from  Mr.  Le 
Moyne. " 

"  Yes,  you  had,  Miss  Ainslie,"  said  he,  rising  and 
going  around  the  table  until  he  stood  close  beside  her. 
"  You  know  that  only  the  most  pressing  necessity  could 
excuse  me  for  allowing  you  to  leave  my  house  unattended. 

"  That  is  the  way  I  went  there,"  she  interrupted,  as 
she  looked  up  at  him,  laughing  saucily. 

"  But  that  was  before  you  had,  at  my  request,  risked 
your  life  in  behalf  of  my  child.  Let  us  not  hide  the 
truth,  Miss  Ainslie.  We  can  never  go  back  to  the  rela 
tion  of  mere  acquaintanceship  we  held  before  that  night. 
If  you  had  gone  away  the  next  morning  it  might  have 
been  different,  but  every  hour  afterward  increased  my 
obligations  to  you.  I  came  here  to  tell  you  why  I  had 
seemed  to  neglect  them.  Will  you  allow  me  to  do  so  ?" 

"  It  is  quite  needless,  because  there  is  no  obligation — 
none  in  the  least — unless  it  be  to  you  for  generous  hos 
pitality  and  care  and  a  pleasant  respite  from  tedious  duty. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  You  cannot  think  it  is  so," 
he  said,  impetuously.  "  You  know  it  was  my  duty  to 
have  attended  you  hither,  to  have  offered  my  services 
in  that  trying  time,  and  by  my  presence  and  counsel 
saved  you  such  annoyance  as  I  might.  You  know  that 
I  could  not  have  been  unaware  of  this  duty,  and  you  dare 
not  deny  that  you  expected  me  to  follow  you  very 
speedily  after  your  departure." 


FACE  ANSWERETH   TO  FACE.  39* 

"  Mr.  Le  Moyne,"  she  said,  rising,  with  flushed  cheeks 
and  flashing  eyes,  "  you  have  no  right  to  address  such 
language  to  me  !  It  was  bad  enough  to  leave  me  to  face 
danger  and  trouble  and  horror  alone  ;  but  not  so  bad  as 
to  come  here  and  say  such  things.  But  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  let  you  know  that  you  are  right.  I  did  ex 
pect  you,  Hesden  Le  Moyne.  As  I  came  along  the  road 
and  thought  of  the  terrors  which  the  night  might  bring, 
I  said  to  myself  that  before  the  sun  went  down  you 
would  be  here,  and  would  counsel  and  protect  the  girl 
who  had  not  shrunk  from  danger  when  you  asked  her  to 
face  it,  and  who  had  come  to  look  upon  you  as  the  type 
of  chivalry.  Because  I  thought  you  better  and  braver 
and  nobler  than  you  are,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess 
what  I  expected.  I  know  it  was  foolish.  I  might  have 
known  better.  I  might  have  known  that  the  man  who 
would  fight  for  a  cause  he  hated  rather  than  be  sneered 
at  by  his  neighbors,  would  not  care  to  face  public  scorn 
for  the  sake  of  a  '  nigger-teacher  ' — no  matter  what  his 
obligations  to  her." 

She  stood  before  him  with  quivering  nostrils  and  flash 
ing  eyes.  He  staggered  back,  raising  his  hand  to  check 
the  torrent  of  her  wrath. 

"  Don't,  Miss  Ainslie,  don't  !"  he  said,  in  confused 
surprise. 

"  Oh,  yes  !"  she  continued  bitterly,  "  you  no  doubt 
feel  very  much  surprised  that  a  *  Yankee  nigger-teacher ' 
should  dare  to  resent  such  conduct.  You  thought  you 
could  come  to  me,  now  that  the  danger  and  excitement 
have  subsided,  and  resume  the  relations  we  held  be 
fore.  I  know  you  and  despise  you,  Hesden  Le  Moyne  ! 
I  have  more  respect  for  one  of  those  who  made  Red 
Wing  a  scene  of  horror  and  destruction  than  for  you. 
Is  that  enough,  sir  ?  Do  you  understand  me  now  ?" 


39 2  JlRfCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Oh,  entirely,  Miss  Ainslie, "  said  Hesden,  in  a  quick, 
husky  tone,  taking  his  hat  from  the  table  as  he  spoke. 
"  But  in  justice  to  myself  I  must  be  allowed  to  state 
some  facts  which,  though  perhaps  not  sufficient,  in  your 
opinion,  to  justify  my  conduct,  will  I  hope  show  you 
that  you  have  misjudged  me  in  part.  Will  you  hear  me  ?' ' 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  hear  anything,"  she  said,  as  she  sat 
down.  "  Though  nothing  can  be  said  that  will  restore 
the  past." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  am  aware  of  that.  There  is  one 
thing,  however,  that  I  prize  even  more  than  that,  and 
that  is  my  honor.  Do  not  take  the  trouble  to  sneer. 
Say,  what  I  call  my  honor,  if  it  pleases  you  better,  and 
I  will  not  leave  a  stain  upon  that,  even  in  your  mind,  if 
I  can  help  it." 

"Yes,   I  hear,"  she   said,    as  he  paused   a  moment. 
'  Your  honor,  I  believe  you  said." 

;<  Yes,  Miss  Ainslie,"  he  replied  with  dignity  ;  "  my 
honor  requires  that  I  should  say  to  you  now  what  I  had 
felt  forbidden  to  say  before — that,  however  exalted  the 
opinion  you  may  have  formed  of  me,  it  could  not  have 
equalled  that  which  I  cherished  for  you — not  for  what 
you.  did,  but  for  what  you  were — and  this  feeling,  what 
ever  you  may  think,  is  still  unchanged." 

Mollie  started  with  amazement.  Her  face,  which  had 
been  pale,  was  all  aflame  as  she  glanced  up  at  Hesden 
with  a  frightened  look,  while  he  went  on. 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  you  would  intentionally  be  un 
just.  So,  if  you  will  permit  me,  I  will  ask  you  one  ques 
tion.  If  you  knew  that  on  the  day  of  your  departure, 
and  for  several  succeeding  days,  a  human  life  was  ab 
solutely  dependent  upon  my  care  and  watchfulness,  would 
you  consider  me  excusable  for  failure  to  learn  of  your 
unannounced  departure,  or  for  not  immediately  follow- 


FACE  ANSWERETII   TO  FACE.  393 

ing  you  hither  on  learning  that  fact  ?"  He  paused,  evi 
dently  expecting  a  reply. 

"  Surely,  Mr.  LeMoyne, "  she  said,  looking  up  at  him 
in  wide-eyed  wonder,  "  you  know  I  would." 

"And  would  you  believe  my  word  if  I  assured  you 
that  this  was  the  fact  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  would." 

"  I  am  very  glad.  Such  was  the  case  ;  and  that 
alone  prevented  my  following  you  and  insisting  on  your 
immediate  return." 

"  I  did  not  know  your  mother  had  been  so  ill,"  she 
said,  with  some  contrition  in  her  voice. 

"  It  was  not  my  mother.  I  am  sorry,  but  I  cannot 
tell  you  now  who  it  was.  You  will  know  all  about  it 
some  time.  And  more  than  that, "he  continued,  "on 
the  fourth  day  after  you  had  gone,  one  who  had  saved 
my  life  in  battle  came  and  asked  me  to  acknowledge 
my  debt  by  performing  an  important  service  for  him, 
which  has  required  nearly  all  my  time  since  that." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Le  Moyne  !  "  she  said,  as  the  tears  came 
into  her  eyes,  "  please  forgive  my  anger  and  injustice." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  he  said.  'You  were 
not  unjust — only  ignorant  of  the  facts,  and  your  anger 
was  but  natural." 

"  Yet  I  should  have  known  better.  I  should  have 
trusted  you  more,"  said  she,  sobbing. 

"  Well,  do  not  mind  it,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "  But 
if  my  explanation  is  thus  far  sufficient,  will  you  allow  me 
to  sit  down  while  1  tell  you  the  rest  ?  The  story  is  a 
somewhat  long  one." 

"  Oh,  pray  do,  Mr.  Le  Moyne.  Excuse  my  rudeness 
as  well  as  my  anger.  Please  be  seated  and  let  me  take 
your  hat." 

She  took  the  hat  and  laid  it  on   a  table  at  the  side  of 


394  BKICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

the  room,  and  then  returned  and  listened  to  his  story. 
He  told  her  all  that  he  had  told  his  mother  the  night  be 
fore,  explaining  such  things  as  he  thought  she  might  not 
fully  understand.  Then  he  showed  her  the  pocket-book 
and  the  will,  which  he  had  brought  with  him  for  that  pur 
pose. 

At  first  she  listened  to  what  he  said  with  a  constrained 
and  embarrassed  air.  He  had  not  proceeded  far,  how 
ever,  before  she  began  to  manifest  a  lively  interest  in  his 
words.  She"  leaned  forward  and  gazed  into  his  face  with 
an  absorbed  earnestness  that  awakened  his  surprise. 
Two  or  three  times  she  reached  out  her  hand,  and  her 
lips  moved,  as  though  she  would  interrupt  him.  He 
stopped  ;  but,  without  speaking,  she  nodded  for  him  to  go 
on.  When  he  handed  her  the  pocket-book  and  the  will, 
she  took  them  with  a  trembling  hand  and  examined  them 
with  the  utmost  care.  The  student-lamp  had  been 
lighted  before  his  story  was  ended.  Her  face  was  in  the 
soft  light  which  came  through  the  porcelain  shade, 
but  her  hands  were  in  the  circle  of  bright  light  that 
escaped  beneath  it.  He  noticed  that  they  trembled  so 
that  they  could  scarcely  hold  the  paper  she  was  trying  to 
read.  He  asked  if  he  should  not  read  it  for  her.  She 
handed  him  the  will,  but  kept  the  pocketbook  tightly 
clasped  in  tooth  hands,  with  the  rude  scrawl, 


MARDLEHEAD,  MASS., 


in    full  view.      She  listened  nervously  to  the  reading, 
never  once  looking  up.    When  he  had  finished,  she  said, 
"  And  you  say  the  land  mentioned  there  is  the  planta 
tion  you  now  occupy  ?" 


FACE  ANSWERETII    TO  FACE.  3Q5 

11  It  embraces  my  mother's  plantation  and  much  more. 
Indeed,  this  very  plantation  of  Red  Wing,  except  the 
little  tract  around  the  house  here,  is  a  part  of  it.  The 
Red  Wing  Ordinary  tract  is  mentioned  as  one  of  those 
which  adjoins  it  upon  the  west.  This  is  the  west  line, 
and  the  house  at  Mulberry  Hill  is  very  near  the  eastern 
edge.  It  is  a  narrow  tract,  running  down  on  this  side 
the  river  until  it  comes  to  the  big  bend  near  the  ford, 
which  it  crosses,  and  keeps  on  to  the  eastward. 

"  It  is  a  large  belt,  though  I  do  not  suppose  it 
was  then  of  any  great  value — perhaps  not  worth  more 
than  a  shilling  an  acre.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  realize 
how  cheap  land  was  in  this  region  at  that  time.  A  man 
of  moderate  wealth  might  have  secured  almost  a  county. 
Especially  was  that  the  case  with  men  who  bought  up 
what  was  termed  "Land  Scrip"  at  depreciated  rates, 
and  then  entered  lands  and  paid  for  them  with  it  at  par." 

"  Was  that  the  way  this  was  bought  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  he  replied.  "  I  immediately  em 
ployed  Mr.  Pardee  to  look  the  matter  up,  and  it  seems 
from  the  records  that  an  entry  had  been  made  some  time 
before,  by  one  Paul  Cresson,  which  'was  by  him  assigned 
to  James  Richards.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  it  was  a 
part  of  the  Crown  grant  to  Lord  Granville,  which  had  not 
been  alienated  before  the  Revolution,  and  of  which  the 
State  claimed  the  fee  afterward  by  reason  of  his  adhesion 
to  the  Crown.  The  question  of  the  right  of  such  alien 
enemies  to  hold  under  Crown  grants  was  not  then  deter 
mined,  and  I  suppose  the  lands  were  rated  very  low  by 
reason  of  this  uncertainty  in  the  title." 

"  Do  you  think — that — that  this  will  is  genuine  ?"  she- 
asked,  with  her  white  fingers  knotted  about  the  brown 
old  pocket-book. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  about  its  proving  to   be  genuine. 


396  BKICXS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

That  is  evident  upon  its  face.  I  hope  there  may  be  some 
thing  to  show  that  my  grandfather  did  not  act  dishonor 
ably, "  he  replied. 

"  But  suppose — suppose  there  should  not  be  ;  what 
would  be  the  effect  ?" 

"  Legally,  Mr.  Pardee  says,  there  is  little  chance 
that  any  valid  claim  can  be  set  up  under  it.  The  prob 
abilities  are,  he  says,  that  the  lapse  of  time  will  bar  any 
such  claim.  He  also  says  that  it  is  quite  possible  that 
the  devisee  may  have  died  before  coming  of  age  to  take 
under  the  will,  and  the  widow,  also,  before  that  time  ;  in 
which  case,  under  the  terms  of  the  will,  it  would  have 
fallen  to  my  grandfather." 

44  You  are  not  likely  to  lose  by  it  then,  in  any  event  ?" 

4 '  If  it  should  prove  that  there  are  living  heirs  whose 
claims  are  not  barred  by  time,  then,  of  course,  they  will 
hold,  not  only  our  plantation,  but  also  the  whole  tract. 
In  that  case,  I  shall  make  it  the  business  of  my  life  to 
acquire  enough  to  reimburse  those  who  have  purchased 
of  my  grandfather,  and  who  will  lose  by  this  discovery." 

41  But  you  are  not  bound  to  do  that  ?"  she  asked,  in 
surprise. 

44  Not  legally.  Neither  are  we  bound  to  give  up  the 
plantation  if  the  heir  is  legally  estopped.  But  I  think, 
and  my  mother  agrees  with  me,  that  if  heirs  are  found  who 
cannot  recover  the  land  by  reason  of  the  lapse  of  time, 
even  then,  honor  requires  the  surrender  of  what  we  hold." 

"  And  you  would  give  up  your  home  ?" 

"  I  should  gladly  do  so,  if  I  might  thereby  right  a 
wrong  committed  by  an  ancestor." 

14  But  your  mother,  Hesden,  what  of  her  ?" 

44  She  would  rather  die  than  do  a  dishonorable  thing." 

44  Yes — yes  ;  but — you  know — " 

44  Yes,  I  know  that  she  is  old  and  an  invalid,  and  that 


FACE  ANSWERETH    TO  FACE.  397 

I  am  young  and — and  unfortunate  ;  but  I  will  find  a  way 
to  maintain  her  without  keeping  what  we  had  never  any 
right  to  hold." 

'  You  have  never  known  the  hardship  of  self-sup 
port  !"  she  said. 

"  I  shall  soon  learn,"  he  answered,  with  a  shrug. 

She  sprang  up  and  walked  quickly  across  the  room. 
Her  hands  were  clasped  in  front  of  her,  the  backs  upward 
and  the  nails  digging  into  the  white  flesh.  Hesden  wcn- 
dered  a  little  at  her  excitement. 

1  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !"  she  exclaimed  at  last,  as 
she  sank  again  into  her  chair,  and  pressed  her  clasped 
hands  over  her  eyes. 

;<  Why  do  you  say  that  ?"  he  asked,  curiously. 

"  Because  you — because  I — I  hardly  know,"  she  stam 
mered. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment,  her,  face  flushing  and 
paling  by  turns,  and  stretching  out  her  hand  to  him  sud 
denly  across  the  table,  she  said,  looking  him  squarely  in 
the  face  : 

"  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  you  are  a  brave  man  !" 

He  took  the  hand  in  his  own  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips, 
which  trembled  as  they  touched  it. 

"  Miss  Mollie, "  he  said,  tenderly,  "  will  you  forgive 
my  not  coming  before  ?" 

"  If  you  will  pardon  my  lack  of  faith  in  you." 

'  You  see,"  he  said,  "  that  my  duty  for  the  present  is 
to  my  mother  and  the  name  I  bear." 

"  And  mine,"  she  answered,  "  is  to  the  poor  people 
whose  wrongs  I  have  witnessed." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  mean  that  I  will  give  myself  to  the  task  of  finding 
a  refuge  for  those  who  have  suffered  such  terrible  evils 
as  we  have  witnessed  here  at  Red  Wing." 


398  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  You  will  leave  here,  then  ?" 

41  In  a  day  or  two." 

"  To  return — when  ?" 

"  Never." 

Their  hands  were  still  clasped  across  the  narrow  table. 
He  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  saw  only  calm,  unflinching 
resolution.  It  piqued  his  self-love  that  she  should  be  so 
unmoved.  Warmly  as  he  really  loved  her,  self-sacrific 
ing  as  he  felt  himself  to  be  in  giving  her  up,  he  could 
not  yet  rid  himself  of  the  thought  of  her  Northern  birth, 
and  felt  annoyed  that  she  should  excel  him  in  the  gentle 
quality  of  self  control.  He  had  no  idea  that  he  woulJ 
ever  meet  her  again.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  leave 
her  out  of  his  life  forever,  though  he  could  not  cast  her 
out  of  his  heart.  And  yet,  although  he  had  no  right  to 
expect  it,  he  somehow  felt  disappointed  that  she  showed 
no  more  regret.  He  had  not  quite  looked  for  her  to  be 
so  calm,  and  he  was  almost  annoyed  by  it  ;  so  dropping 
her  hand,  he  said,  weakly, 

41  Shall  I  never  see  you  again  ?" 

"  Perhaps"— quietly. 

"When?" 

"  When  you  are  willing  to  acknowledge  yourself  proud 
of  me  because  of  the  work  in  which  I  have  been  engaged  ! 
Hesden  Le  Moyne, "  she  continued,  rising,  and 
standing  before  him,  "  you  are  a  brave  man  and  a  proud 
one.  You  are  so  brave  that  you  would  not  hesitate  to 
acknowledge  your  regard  for  me,  despite  the  fact  that  1 
am  a  '  nigger-teacher.'  It  is  a  noble  act,  and  I  honor 
you  for  it.  But  I  am  as  proud  as  you,  and  have  good 
reason  to  be,  as  you  will  know  some  day ;  and  I  say  to 
you  that  I  would  not  prize  any  man's  esteem  which 
coupled  itself  with  an  apology  for  the  woik  in  which  I 
have  been  engaged.  I  count  that  work  my  highest  honor, 


HOW  SLEEP    THE   BRAVE?  399 

and  am  more  jealous  of  its  renown  than  of  even  my  own 
good  name.  When  you  can  say  to  me,  '  I  am  as  proud 
of  your  work  as  of  my  own  honor — so  proud  that  I  wish 
it  to  be  known  of  all  men,  and  that  all  men  should  know 
that  I  approve,'  then  you  may  come  to  me.  Till  then, 
farewell  !" 

She  held  out  her  hand.  He  pressed  it  an  instant,  took 
his  hat  from  the  table,  and  went  out  into  the  night,  dazed 
and  blinded  by  the  brightness  he  had  left  behind. 


CHAPTER    LI. 

HOW    SLEEP    THE    BRAVE ? 

Two  days  afterward,  Mollie  Ainslie  took  the  train  for 
the  North,  accompanied  by  Lugena  and  her  children. 
At  the  same  time  went  Captain  Pardee,  under  instruc 
tions  from  Ilesden-Le  Moyne  to  verify  the  will,  discover 
who  the  testator  really  was,  and  then  ascertain  whether 
he  had  any  living  heirs. 

To  Mollie  Ainslie  the  departure  was  a  sad  farewell  to 
a  life  which  she  had  entered  upon  so  full  of  abounding 
hope  and  charity,  so  full  of  love  for  God  and  man,  that 
she  could  not  believe  that  all  her  bright  hopes  had  withered 
and  only  ashes  remained.  The  way  was  dark.  The 
path  was  hedged  up.  The  South  was  "  redeemed." 

The  poor,  ignorant  white  man  had  been  unable  to  per 
ceive  that  liberty  for  the  slave  meant  elevation  to  him 
also.  The  poor,  ignorant  colored  man  had  shown  him 
self,  as  might  well  have  been  anticipated,  unable  to  cope 
with  intelligence,  wealth,  and  the  subtle  power  of  the  best 
trained  political  intellects  of  the  nation  ;  and  it  was  not 


4°°  B RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

strange.  They  were  all  alone,  and  their  allies  were  either 
as  poor  and  weak  as  themselves,  or  were  handicapped 
with  the  brand  of  Northern  birth.  These  were  their 
allies — not  from  choice,  but  from  necessity.  Few,  indeed, 
were  there  of  the  highest  and  the  best  of  those  who  had 
fought  the  nation  in  war  as  they  had  fought  against  the 
tide  of  liberty  before  the  war  began — who  would  accept 
the  terms  on  which  the  nation  gave  re-established  and 
greatly-increased  power  to  the  States  of  the  South. 

So  there  were  ignorance  and  poverty  and  a  hated  race 
upon  one  side,  and,  upon  the  other,  intelligence,  wealth, 
and  pride.  The  former  outnumbered  the  latter  ;  but 
the  latter,  as  compared  with  the  former,  were  a  Gre 
cian  phalanx  matched  against  a  scattered  horde  of 
Scythian  bowmen.  The  Nation  gave  the  jewel  of  liberty 
into  the  hands  of  the  former,  armed  them  with  the  weap 
ons  of  self-government,  and  said  :  *'  Ye  are  many  ;  pro 
tect  what  ye  have  received."  Then  it  took  away  its 
hand,  turned  away  its  eyes,  closed  its  ears  to  every  cry 
of  protest  or  of  agony,  and  said  :  "  We  will  not  aid  you 
nor  protect  you.  Though  you  are  ignorant,  from  you 
will  we  demand  the  works  of  wisdom.  Though  you  are 
weak,  great  things  shall  be  required  at  your  hands." 
Like  the  ancient  taskmaster,  the  Nation  said  :  "  There 
shall  no  straw  be  given  you,  yet  shall  ye  deliver  the  tale  of 
bricks:' 

But,  alas  !  they  were  weak  and  inept.  The  weapon 
they  had  received  was  two-edged.  Sometimes  they  cut 
themselves  ;  again  they  caught  it  by  the  blade,  and  those 
with  whom  they  fought  seized  the  hilt  and  made  terrible 
slaughter.  Then,  too,  they  were  not  always  wise — which 
was  a  sore  fault,  but  not  their  own.  Nor  were  they 
always  brave,  or  true — which  was  another  grievous  fault  ; 
but  was  it  to  be  believed  that  one  hour  of  liberty  would 


HOW  SLEEP    THE   BRAVE?  401 

efface  the  scars  of  generations  of  slavery  ?  Ah  !  well 
might  they  cry  unto  the  Nation,  as  did  Israel  unto 
Pharaoh  :  "  There  is  no  straw  given  unto  thy  servants, 
and  they  say  to  us,  '  Make  brick  '  :  and  behold  thy  serv 
ants  are  beaten  ;  but  the  fault  is  in  thine  own  people." 
They  had  simply  demonstrated  that  in  the  years  cf  Grace 
of  the  nineteenth  century  liberty  could  not  be  maintained 
nor  prosperity  achieved  by  ignorance  and  poverty,  any 
more  than  in  the  days  of  Moses  adobe  bricks  could  be 
made  without  straw.  The  Nation  gave  the  power  of  the 
South  into  the  hands  of  ignorance  and  poverty  and  in 
experience,  and  then  demanded  of  them  the  fruit  of  in 
telligence,  the  strength  of  riches,  and  the  skill  of  experi 
ence.  It  put  before  a  keen  -  eyed  and  unscrupulous 
minority — a  minority  proud,  aggressive,  turbulent,  arro 
gant,  and  scornful  cf  all  things  save  their  own  will  and 
pleasure — the  temptation  to  enhance  their  power  by  seiz 
ing  that  held  by  the  trembling  hands  cf  simple-minded 
and  unskilled  guardians.  What  wonder  that  it  was  rav 
ished  from  their  care  ? 

Mollie  Ainslie  thought  of  these  things  with  some  bit 
terness.  She  did  not  doubt  the  outcome.  Her  faith  in 
truth  and  libert}-,  and  her  proud  confidence  in  the  ulti 
mate  destiny  of  the  grand  Nation  whose  past  she  had 
worshiped  from  childhood,  were  too  strong  to  permit 
that.  She  believed  that  some  time  in  the  future  light 
would  come  out  of  the  darkness  ;  but  between  then  and 
the  present  was  a  great  gulf,  whose  depth  of  horror  no 
man  knew,  in  which  the  people  to  serve  whom  she  had 
given  herself  must  sink  and  suffer — she  could  not  tell 
how  long.  For  them  there  was  no  hope. 

She  did  not,  indeed,  look  for  a  continuance  of  the 
horrors  which  then  prevailed.  She  knew  that  when  the 
incentive  was  removed  the  acts  would  cease.  There 


402  BKICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

would  be  peace,  because  there  would  no  longer  be  any 
need  for  violence.  But  she  was  sure  there  would  be  no  real 
freedom,  no  equality  of  right,  no  certainty  of  justice.  She 
did  not  care  who  ruled,  but  she  knew  that  this  people — 
she  felt  almost  like  calling  them  her  people — needed  the 
incentive  of  liberty,  the  inspiriting  rivalry  of  open  and 
fair  competition,  to  enable  them  to  rise.  Ay,  to  pre 
vent  them  from  sinking  lower  and  lower.  She  greatly 
feared  that  the  words  of  a  journal  which  gloried  in  all 
that  had  been  done  toward  abbreviating  and  annulling 
the  powers,  rights,  and  opportunities  of  the  recent  slaves 
might  yet  become  verities  if  these  people  were  deprived 
of  such  incentives.  She  remembered  how  deeply-rooted 
in  the  Southern  mind  was  the  idea  that  slavery  was  a 
social  necessity.  She  did  not  believe,  as  so  many  had 
insisted,  that  it  was  founded  merely  in  greed.  She  be 
lieved  that  it  was  with  sincere  conviction  that  a  leading 
journal  had  declared  :  "  The  evils  of  free  society  are  in 
sufferable.  Free  society  must  fail  and  give  way  to  a 
class  society — a  social  system  old  as  the  world,  universal 
as  man." 

She  knew  that  the  leader  of  a  would-be  nation  had  de 
clared  :  "A  thousand  must  die  as  slaves  or  paupers  in 
order  that  one  gentleman  may  live.  Yet  they  are  cheap 
to  any  nation,  even  at  that  price." 

So  she  feared  that  the  victors  in  the  post-bellum  strife 
which  was  raging  around  her  would  succeed,  for  a  time 
at  least,  in  establishing  this  ideal  "class  society." 
While  the  Nation  slumbered  in  indifference,  she  feared 
that  these  men,  still  full  of  the  spirit  of  slavery,  in  the 
very  name  of  law  and  order,  under  the  pretense  of 
decency  and  justice,  would  re-bind  those  whose  feet  had 
just  begun  to  tread  the  path  of  liberty  with  shackles 
only  less  onerous  than  those  which  had  been  dashed  from 


HOW  SLEEP    THE  BRAVE?  403 

their  limbs  by  red-handed  war.  As  she  thought  of  these 
things  she  read  the  following  words  from  the  pen  of  one 
who  had  carefully  watched  the  process  of  "  redemption," 
and  had  noted  its  results  and  tendency — not  bitterly  and 
angrily,  as  she  had  done,  but  coolly  and  approvingly  : 

"  We  would  like  to  engrave  a  prophecy  on  stone,  to  be 
read  of  generations  in  the  future.  The  Negro,  in  these 
[the  Southern]  States,  will  be  slave  again  or  cease  to  be. 
His  sole  refuge  from  extinction  will  be  in  slavery  to  the 
white  man."  * 

She  remembered  to  have  heard  a  great  man  say,  on  a 
memorable  occasion,  that  "  the  forms  of  law  have  always 
been  the  graves  of  buried  liberties."  She  feared  that, 
under  the  "  forms"  of  subverted  laws,  the  liberties  of  a 
helpless  people  would  indeed  be  buried.  She  had  little 
care  for  the  Nation.  It  was  of  those  she  had  served  and 
Avhose  future  she  regarded  with  such  engrossing  interest 
that  she  thought.  She  did  not  dream  of  remedying  the 
evil.  That  was  beyond  her  power.  She  only  thought  she 
might  save  some  from  its  scath.  To  that  she  devoted 
herself. 

The  day  before,  she  had  visited  the  cemetery  where  her 
brother's  ashes  reposed.  She  had  long  ago  put  a  neat 
monument  over  his  grave,  and  had  herself  supplemented 
the  national  appropriation  for  its  care.  It  was  a  beautiful 
inclosure,  walled  with  stone,  verdant  with  soft  turf,  and 
ornamented  with  rare  shrubbery.  Across  it  ran  a  little 
stream,  with  green  banks  sloping  either  way.  A  single 
great  elm  drooped  over  its  bubbling  waters.  A  pleasant 

*  Out  of  the  numerous  declarations  of  this  conviction  which 
have  been  made  by  the  Southern  press  every  year  since  the 
war,  I  have  selected  one  from  the  Meridian  (Miss.)  Me)ciuy  of 
July  3ist,  1880.  I  have  done  this  simply  to  show  that  the  senti 
ment  is  not  yet  dead 


404  BRICKS  WIT HOUr  STRAW. 

drive  ran  with  easy  grade  and  graceful  curves  down  one 
low  hill  and  up  another.  The  iron  gate  opened  upon 
a  dusty  highway.  Beside  it  stood  the  keeper's  neat 
brick  lodge.  In  front,  and  a  little  to  the  right,  lay  a 
sleepy  Southern  town  half  hidden  in  embowering  trees. 
Across  the  little  ravine  within  the  cemetery,  upon  the  level 
plateau,  were  the  graves,  marked,  in  some  cases,  by  little 
square  white  monuments  of  polished  marble,  on  which  was 
but  the  single  word,  "  Unknown."  A  few  bore  the  names 
of  those  who  slept  below.  But  on  one  side  there  were  five 
long  mounds,  stretching  away,  side  by  side,  as  wide  as 
the  graves  were  long,  and  as  long  as  four  score  graves. 
Smoothly  rounded  from  end  to  end,  without  a  break  or  a 
sign,  they  seemed  a  fit  emblem  of  silence.  Where  they 
began,  a  granite  pillar  rose  high,  decked  with  symbols  of 
glory  interspersed  with  emblems  of  mourning.  Cannon, 
battered  and  grim,  the  worn-out  dogs  of  war,  gaped  with 
silent  jaws  up  at  the  silent  sky.  No  name  was  carved 
on  base  or  capital,  nor  on  the  marble  shield  upon  the 
shaft.  Only,  "  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  the  unknown 
heroes  who  died 

How  quick  the  memory  fills  out  the  rest  !  There  had 
been  a  military  prison  of  the  Confederacy  just  over  the  hill 
yonder,  where  the  corn  now  grew  so  rank  and  thick. 
Twelve  thousand  men  died  there  and  were  thrown  into 
those  long  trenches  where  are  now  heaped-up  mounds 
that  look  like  giants'  graves — not  buried  one  by  one,  with 
coffin,  shroud,  and  funeral  rite,  but  one  upon  another 
heaped  and  piled,  until  the  yawning  pit  would  hold  no 
more.  No  name  was  kept,  no  grave  was  marked,  but  in 
each  trench  was  heaped  one  undistinguishable  mass  of 
dead  humanity  ! 

Mollie  Ainslie,  when  she  had  bidden  farewell  to  her 
brother's  grave,  looked  on  these  piled-up  trenches, 


HOW  SLEEP    THE   BRAVE?  4° 5 

scanned   the   silent   shaft,    and   going  into  the  keeper's 
office  just  at  hand,  read  for  herself  the  mournful  record  : 

Known 94 

Unknown 12,032 

Total  12.126 

Died  in  —    —  Prison ...    1 1, 700 

As  she  wandered  back  to  the  town,  she  gleaned  from 
what  she  had  seen  a  lesson  of  charity  for  the  people 
toward  whom  her  heart  had  been  full  of  hardness. 

"  It  was  thus,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  that  they  treated 
brave  foemen  of  their  own  race  and  people,  who  died, 
not  on  the  battle-field,  but  of  lingering  disease  in  crowded 
prison  pens,  in  the  midst  of  pleasant  homes  and  within 
hearing  of  the  Sabbath  chimes.  None  cared  enough  to 
give  to  each  a  grave,  put  up  a  simple  board  to  mark  the 
spot  where  love  might  come  and  weep — nay,  not  enough 
even  to  make  entry  of  the  name  of  the  dead  some  heart 
must  mourn.  And  if  they  did  this  to  their  dead  foe- 
men  and  kinsmen,  their  equals,  why  should  we  wonder 
that  they  manifest  equal  barbarity  toward  the  living 
freedman — their  recent  slave,  now  suddenly  exalted.  It 
is  the  lesson  and  the  fruitage  of  slavery  !  ' ' 

And  so  she  made  excuse  both  for  the  barbarity  of  war 
and  the  savagery  which  followed  it  by  tracing  both  to 
their  origin.  She  did  not  believe  that  human  nature 
changed  in  an  hour,  but  that  centuries  past  bore  fruit  in 
centuries  to  come.  She  thought  that  the  former  mas 
ter  must  be  healed  by  the  slow  medicament  of  time  be 
fore  he  could  be  able  to  recognize  in  all  men  the  sanctity  of 
manhood  ;  as  well  as  that  the  freedman  must  be  taught 
to  know  and  to  defend  his  rights. 

When  she  left  the  cemetery,  she  mounted  Midnight  for 


4°6  BRICKS  WITIIO UT  STRAW. 

a  farewell  ride.  The  next  morning,  before  he  arose,  Hes- 
den  Le  Moyne  heard  the  neigh  of  his  eld  war-horse,  and, 
springing  from  his  bed,  he  ran  out  and  found  him  hitched 
at  his  gate.  A  note  was  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon  to  his 
jetty  forelock.  He  removed  it,  and  read  : 

"  I  return  your  noble  horse  with  many  thanks  for  the 
long  loan.  May  I  hope  that  he  will  be  known  hence 
forth  only  as  Midnight  ?  "  MOLLIE." 

He  thought  he  recognized  the  ribbon  as  one  which  he 
had  often  seen  encircling  the  neck  of  the  writer,  and 
foolishly  treasured  it  upon  his  heart  as  a  keepsake. 

The  train  bore  away  the  teacher,  and  with  her  the 
wife  and  children  who  fled,  not  knowing  their  father's 
fate,  and  the  lawyer  who  sought  an  owner  for  an  estate 
whose  heir  was  too  honorable  to  hold  it  wrongfully. 


CHAPTER    LII. 

REDEEMED  OUT  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  BONDAGE. 

THREE  months  passed  peacefully  away  in  Horsford. 
In  the  "  redeemed"  county  its  "  natural  rulers"  bore 
sway  once  more.  The  crops  which  Nimbus  had  cul 
tivated  were  harvested  by  a  Receiver  of  the  Court. 
The  families  that  dwelt  at  Red  Wing  awaited  in  sullen 
silence  the  outcome  of  the  suits  which  had  been  instituted. 
Of  Nimbus  and  Eliab  not  a  word  had  been  heard.  Some 
thought  they  had  been  killed  ;  others  that  they  had  fled. 
The  family  of  Berry  Lawson  had  disappeared  from  the 
new  home  which  he  had  made  near  "  Bre'er  Rufe  Pat 
terson's,"  in  Hanson  County.  Some  said  that  they  had 


OUT  OF    THE  HOUSE  OF  BONDAGE.  407 

gone  South  ;  others  that  they  had  gone  East.  "  Bre'er 
Rufe"  declared  that  he  did  not  know  where  they  had 
gone.  All  he  knew  was  that  he  was  "  ober  dar  ob  a 
Saturday  night,  an'  dar  dey  was,  Sally  an'  de  chillen  ; 
an'  den  he  went  dar  agin  ob  a  Monday  mornin'  arly,  an' 
dar  dey  wasn't,  nary  one  ob  'em." 

The  excitement  with  regard  to  the  will,  and  her  fear 
that  Hesden  was  infected  with  the  horrible  virus  of 
"  Radicalism,"  had  most  alarmingly  prostrated  the  in 
valid  of  Mulberry  Hill.  For  a  long  time  it  was  feared  that 
her  life  of  suffering  was  near  its  end.  Hesden  did  not 
leave  home  at  all,  except  once  or  twice  to  attend  to  some 
business  as  the  trustee  for  the  fugitive  Jackson.  Cousin 
Hetty  had  become  a  regular  inmate  of  the  house.  All 
the  invalid's  affection  for  her  dead  daughter-in-law 
seemed  to  have  been  transferred  to  Hetty  Lomax.  No 
one  could  serve  her  so  well.  Even  Hesden's  attentions 
were  less  grateful.  She  spoke  freely  of  the  time  when 
she  should  see  Hetty  in  her  sister's  place,  the  mistress 
of  Mulberry  Hill.  She  had  given  up  all  fear  of  the 
property  being  claimed  by  others,  since  she  had  heard 
how  small  were  the  chances  of  discovering  an  heir  whose 
claims  were  not  barred  ;  and  though  she  had  consented 
to  forego  her  legal  rights,  she  trusted  that  a  way  would 
be  found  to  satisfy  any  who  might  be  discovered.  At 
any  rate,  she  was  sure  that  her  promise  would  not  bind 
her  successor,  and,  with  the  usual  stubbornness  of  the 
chronic  invalid,  she  determined  that  the  estate  should 
not  pass  out  of  the  family.  In  any  event,  she  did  not  ex 
pect  to  live  until  the  finding  of  an  heir,  should  there 
chance  to  be  one. 

One  of  the  good  citizens  of  the  county  began  to 
show  himself  in  public  for  the  first  time  since  the  raid 
on  Red  Wing.  An  ugly  scar  stretched  from  his  fore- 


4°8  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW.  \ 

head  down  along  his  nose  and  across  his  lips  and  chin. 
At  the  least  excitement  it  became  red  and  angry,  and 
gave  him  at  all  times  a  ghastly  and  malevolent  appear 
ance.  He  was  a  great  hero  with  the  best  citizens  ;  was 
feted,  admired,  and  praised  ;  and  was  at  once  made  a 
deputy  sheriff  under  the  new  regime.  Another  most 
worthy  citizen,  the  superintendent  of  a  Sabbath-school, 
and  altogether  one  of  the  most  estimable  citizens  of  the 
county,  had  been  so  seriously  affected  with  a  malignant 
brain-fever  since  that  bloody  night  that  he  had  not  yet 
left  his  bed. 

The  colored  men,  most  of  whom  from  a  foolish  ap 
prehension  had  slept  in  the  woods  until  the  election',  now 
began  to  perceive  that  the  nights  were  wholesome,  and  re 
mained  in  their  cabins.  They  seemed  sullen  and  discon 
tented,  and  sometimes  whispered  among  themselves  of 
ill-usage  and  unfair  treatment  ;  but  they  were  not  noisy 
and  clamorous,  as  they  had  been  before  the  work  of  "  re 
demption.'  '  It  was  especially  noted  that  they  were  much 
more  respectful  and  complaisant  to  their  superiors  than 
they  had  been  at  an^  time  since  the  Surrender.  The  old 
time  "  Marse"  was  now  almost  universally  used,  and 
few  "  niggers"  presumed  to  speak  to  a  white  man  in  the 
country  districts  without  removing  their  hats.  In  the 
towns  the  improvement  was  not  so  perceptible.  The 
44  sassy"  ones  seemed  to  take  courage  from  their  num 
bers,  and  there  they  were  still  sometimes  "boisterous" 
and  "obstreperous."  On  the  whole,  however,  the  re 
sult  seemed  eminently  satisfactory,  with*  a  prospect  of 
growing  better  every  day.  Labor  was  more  manageable, 
and  there  were  much  fewer  appeals  to  the  law  by  lazy, 
impudent,  and  dissatisfied  laborers.  The  master's  word 
was  rarely  disputed  upon  the  day  of  settlement,  and  there 
was  every  prospect  of  reviving  hope  and  continued  pros- 


OUT  OF    THE   HOUSE  OF  BONDAGE.  409 

perity  on  the  part  of  men  who  worked  their  plantations 
by  proxy,  and  who  had  been  previously  very  greatly  an 
noyed  and  discouraged  by  the  persistent  clamor  of  their 
"  hands"  for  payment. 

There  had  been  some  ill-natured  criticism  of  the 
course  of  Hesden  Le  Moyne.  It  was  said  that  he 
had  made  some  very  imprudent  remarks,  both  in  regard 
to  the  treatment  of  Jordan  Jackson  and  the  affair  at 
Red  Wing.  There  were  some,  indeed,  who  openly  de 
clared  that  he  had  upheld  and  encouraged  the  niggers  at 
Red  Wing  in  their  insolent  and  outrageous  course,  and 
had  used  language  unworthy  of  a  "  Southern  gentleman" 
concerning  those  patriotic  men  who  had  felt  called  upon, 
for  the  protection  of  their  homes  and  property,  to  ad 
minister  the  somewhat  severe  lesson  which  had  no  doubt 
nipped  disorder  in  the  bud,  saved  them  from  the  war  of 
races  which  had  imminently  impended,  and  brought  "  re 
demption"  to  the  county.  Several  of  Hesden's  personal 
friends  called  upon  him  and  remonstrated  with  him 
upon  his  course.  Many  thought  he  should  be  "  visited," 
and  "  Radicalism  in  the  county  stamped  out"  at  once, 
root  and  branch.  He  received  warning  from  the  Klan 
to  the  effect  that  he  was  considered  a  dangerous 
character,  and  must  change  his  tone  and  take  heed 
to  his  footsteps.  As,  however,  his  inclination  to  the 
dangerous  doctrines  was  generally  attributed  in  a  great 
measure  to  his  unfortunate  infatuation  for  the  little 
"  nigger-teacher,"  it  was  hoped  that  her  absence  would 
effect  a  cure.  Especially  was  this  opinion  entertained 
when  it  became  known  that  his  mother  was  bitterly  op 
posed  to  his  course,  and  was  fully  determined  to  root 
the  seeds  of  "  Radicalism"  from  his  mind.  His  attach 
ment  for  her  was  well  known,  and  it  was  generally  be 
lieved  that  she  might  be  trusted  to  turn  him  from  the 


410  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

error  of  his  ways,  particularly  as  she  was  the  owner  of 
Red  Wing,  and  had  freely  declared  her  intention  not  to 
leave  him  a  foot  of  it  unless  he  abandoned  his  absurd 
and  vicious  notions.  Hesden  himself,  though  he  went 
abroad  but  little,  saw  that  his  friends  had  grown  cool 
and  that  his  enemies  had  greatly  multiplied. 

This  was  the  situation  of  affairs  in  the  good  County  of 
Horsiord  when,  one  bright  morning  in  December — the 
morning  of  "  that  day  whereon  our  Saviour's  birth  is  cel 
ebrate  " — Hesden  Le  Moyne  rode  to  the  depot  nearest 
to  his  home,  purchased  two  tickets  to  a  Northern  city, 
and,  when  the  morning  train  came  in,  assisted  his  "  boy" 
Charles  to  lift  from  a  covered  wagon  which  stood  near 
by,  the  weak  and  pallid  form  of  the  long-lost  "  nigger 
preacher,"  Eliab  Hill,  and  place  him  upon  the  train.  It 
was  noticed  by  the  loungers  about  the  depot  that  Hes 
den  carried  but  half  concealed  a  navy  revolver  which 
seemed  to  have  seen  service.  There  was  some  excite 
ment  in  the  little  crowd  over  the  reappearance  of  Eliab 
Hill,  but  he  was  not  interfered  with.  In  fact,  the  cars 
moved  off  so  quickly  after  he  was  first  seen  that  there 
was  no  time  to  recover  from  the  surprise  produced  by 
the  unexpected  apparition.  It  was  not  until  the  smoke 
of  the  engine  had  disappeared  in  the  distance  that  the 
wrath  of  the  bystanders  clothed  itself  in  words. 

Then  the  air  reeked  with  expletives.  What  ought 
to  have  been  done  was  discussed  with  great  free 
dom.  An  excited  crowd  gathered  around  Charles  as 
he  was  preparing  to  return  home,  and  plied  him  with 
questions.  His  ignorance  was  phenomenal,  but  the  look 
of  stupefied  wonder  with  which  he  regarded  his  ques 
tioners  confirmed  his  words.  It  was  not  until  he  had 
proceeded  a  mile  on  his  homeward  way,  with  Midnight 
in  leading  behind  the  tail-board,  that,  having  satisfied 


IN   THE  CYCLONE.  41* 

himself  that  there  was  no  one  within  hearing,  by  peeping 
from  beneath  the  canvas  covering  of  the  wagon,  both 
before  and  behind,  he  tied  the  reins  to  one  of  the  bows 
which  upheld  the  cover,  abandoned  the  mule  to  his 
own  guidance,  and  throwing  himself  upon  the  mattress 
on  which  Eliab  had  lain,  gave  vent  to  roars  of  laughter. 
'  Yah,  yah,  yah  !"  he  cried,  as  the  tears  rolled  down 
his  black  face.  "  It  du  take  Marse  Hesden  to  wax  dem 
fellers!  Dar  he  war,  jest  ez  cool  an'  keerless  ez  yer 
please,  a'standin'  roun'  an'  waitin'  fer  de  train  an'  pay- 
in'  no  'tention  at  all  ter  me  an'  de  wagon  by  de  plat 
form,  dar.  Swar,  but  I  war  skeered  nigh  'bout  ter  death, 
till  I  got  dar  an'  seed  him  so  quiet  and  keerless;  an  ' 
Bre'er  'Liab,  he  war  jest  a-prayin'  all  de  time — but  dat's 
no  wonder.  Den,  when  de  train  whistle,  Marse  Hesden 
turn  quick  an'  sharp  an'  I  seed  him  gib  dat  ole  pistol  a 
jerk  roun'  in  front,  an'  he  come  back  an'  sed,  jest  ez 
cool  an'  quiet,  '  Now,  Charles  !  '  I  declar'  it  stiddied  me 
up  jes  ter  hear  him,  an'  den  up  comes  Bre'er  'Liab  in 
my  arms.  Marse  Hesden  helps  a  bit  an'  goes  fru  de 
crowd  wid  his  mouf  shet  like  a  steel  trap.  We  takes  him 
on  de  cars.  All  aboard!  Whoo-oop— -puff,  puff  !  Off 
she  goes  !  an'  dat  crowd  Stan's  dar  a-cussin'  all  curra- 
tion  an'  demselves  to  boot  !  Yah,  yah,  yah  !  'Rah  for 
Marse  Hesden  !" 


CHAPTER    LIII. 

IN     THE     CYCLONE. 

THEN  the  storm  burst.  Every  possible  story  was  set 
afloat.  The  more  absurd  it  seemed  the  more  generally 
was  it  credited.  Men  talked  and  women  chattered  of 


412  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

nothing  but  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  his  infamous  "  negro- 
loving  Radicalism,"  his  infatuation  with  the  "  Yankee 
school-marm,"  the  anger  of  his  mother,  his  ill-treatment 
of  his  cousin,  Hetty  Lomax  ;  his  hiding  of  the  "  nig 
ger  preacher"  in  the  loft  of  the  dining-room,  his  alliance 
with  the  Red  Wing  desperadoes  to  "  bum  every  white 
house  on  that  side  of  the  river" — in  short,  his  treachery, 
his  hypocrisy,  his  infamy. 

On  the  street,  in  the  stores,  at  the  churches — 
wherever  men  met — this  was  the  one  unfailing  theme 
of  conversation.  None  but  those  who  have  seen 
a  Southern  community  excited  over  one  subject  or 
one  man  can  imagine  how  much  can  be  said  about  a 
little  matter.  The  newspapers  of  that  and  the  ad 
joining  counties  were  full  of  it.  Colored  men  were 
catechized  in  regard  to  it.  His  friends  vied  with  his  ene 
mies  in  vituperation,  lest  they  should  be  suspected  of  a 
like  offense.  He  was  accounted  a  monster  by  many, 
and  an  enemy  by  all  who  had  been  his  former  associates, 
and,  strangely  enough,  was  at  once  looked  upon  as  a 
friend  and  ally  by  every  colored  man,  and  by  the 
few  white  men  of  the  county  who  secretly  or  silently  held 
with  the  "  Radicals."  It  was  the  baptism  of  fire  which 
every  Southern  man  must  face  who  presumes  to  differ 
from  his  fellows  upon  political  questions. 

Nothing  that  he  had  previously  done  or  said  or  been 
could  excuse  or  palliate  his  conduct.  The  fact  that  he  was 
of  a  good  family  only  rendered  his  alliance  with  "  nig 
gers"  against  his  own  race  and  class  the  more  infamous. 
The  fact  that  he  was  a  man  of  substantial  means,  and 
had  sought  no  office  or  aggrandizement  by  the  votes  of 
colored  men,  made  his  offence  the  more  heinous,  be 
cause  he  could  not  even  plead  the  poor  excuse  of  self- 
interest.  The  fact  that  he  had  served  the  Confederacy 


IN    THE  CYCLONE.  413 

well,  and  bore  on  his  person  the  indubitable  proof  of  gal 
lant  conduct  on  the  field  of  battle,  was  a  still  further 
aggravation  of  his  act,  because  it  marked  him  as  a  rene 
gade  and  a  traitor  to  the  cause  for  which  he  had  fought. 
Compared  with  a  Northern  Republican  he  was  accounted 
far  more  infamous,  because  of  his  desertion  of  his  family, 
friends,  comrades,  and  "  the  cause  of  the  South  " — a 
vague  something  which  no  man  can  define,  but  which 
"fires  the  Southern  heart"  with  wonderful  facility. 
Comparison  with  the  negro  was  still  more  to  his  dis 
advantage,  since  he  had  "  sinned  against  light  and 
knowledge, "  while  they  did  not  even  know  their  own 
"best  friends."  And  so  the  tide  of  detraction  ebbed 
and  flowed  while  Hesden  was  absent,  his  destination  un 
known,  his  return  a  matter  of  conjecture,  and  his  pur 
pose  a  mystery. 

The  most  generally-accepted  theory  was  that  he  had 
gone  to  Washington  for  the  purpose  of  maliciously  mis 
representing  and  maligning  the  good  people  of  Horsford, 
in  order  to  secure  the  stationing  of  soldiers  in  that 
vicinity,  and  their  aid  in  arresting  and  bringing  to  trial, 
for  various  offences  against  the  peace  and  persons  of 
the  colored  people,  some  of  the  leading  citizens  of  the 
county.  In  support  of  this  they  cited  his  intimate 
relations  with  Jordan  Jackson,  as  well  as  with  Nim 
bus  and  Eliab.  It  was  soon  reported  that  Jackson 
had  met  him  at  Washington  ;  that  Nimbus  Desrnit  had 
also  arrived  there  ;  that  the  whole  party  had  been  closeted 
with  this  and  that  leading  "  Radical";  and  that  the  poor,; 
stricken,  down  -  trodden  South  —  the  land  fairest  and 
richest  and  poorest  and  most  peaceful  and  most  chiv- 
alric,  the  most  submissive  and  the  most  defiant ;  in  short, 
the  most  contradictory  in  its  self-conferred  superlatives 
— that  this  land  of  antipodal  excellences  must  now  look 


4*4  AA'/CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

for  new  forms  of  tyranny  and  new  measures  of  oppres 
sion. 

The  secrecy  which  had  been  preserved  for  three 
months  in  regard  to  Eliab's  place  of  concealment  made 
a  most  profound  impression  upon  Hesden's  neighbors  of 
the  County  of  Horsford.  They  spoke  of  it  in  low,  hor 
rified  tones,  which  showed  that  they  felt  deeply  in  regard 
to  it.  It  was  ascertained  that  no  one  in  his  family  knew 
of  the  presence  of  Eliab  until  the  morning  of  his  removal. 
Miss  Hetty  made  haste  to  declare  that  in  her  two 
months  and  more  of  attendance  upon  the  invalid  she  had 
never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  The  servants  stoutly 
denied  all  knowledge  of  it,  except  Charles,  who  could  not 
get  out  of  having  cut  the  door  through  into  the  other 
room.  It  was  believed  that  Hesden  had  himself  taken  all 
the  care  of  the  injured  man,  whose  condition  was  not  at  all 
understood.  How  badly  he  had  been  hurt,  or  in  what 
manner,  none  could  tell.  Many  visited  the  house  to 
view  the  place  of  concealment.  Only  the  closed  doors 
could  be  seen,  for  Hesden  had  taken  the  key  with  him. 
Some  suggested  that  Nimbus  was  still  concealed  there,  and 
several  advised  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  to  get  some  one  to  go 
into  the  room.  However,  as  no  one  volunteered  to  go, 
nothing  came  of  this  advice.  It  was  rumored,  too,  that 
Hesden  had  brought  into  the  county  several  detec 
tives,  who  had  stolen  into  the  hearts  of  the  unsuspecting 
people  of  Horsford,  and  had  gone  Northward  loaded 
down  with  information  that  would  make  trouble  for  some 
of  the  "  best  men." 

It  was  generally  believed  that  the  old  attic  over  the 
dining-room  had  long  been  a  place  where  "Radicals" 
had  been  wont  to  meet  in  solemn  conclave  to  "  plot 
against  the  whites."  A  thousand  things  were  remem 
bered  which  confirmed  this  view.  It  was  here  that  lies- 


IN   THE  CYCLONE.  415 

den  had  harbored  the  detectives,  as  Rahab  had  hidden 
the  spies.  It  was  quite  evident  that  he  had  for  a  long 
time  been  an  emissary  of  the  Government  at  Washing 
ton,  and  no  one  could  guess  what  tales  of  outrage  he 
might  not  fabricate  in  order  to  glut  his  appetite  for 
inhuman  revenge.  The  Southern  man  is  always  self-con 
scious.  He  thinks  the  world  has  him  in  its  eye,  and  that 
he  about  nils  the  eye.  This  does  not  result  from  com 
parative  depreciation  of  others  so  much  as  from  a  habit 
of  magnifying  his  own  image.  He  always  poses  for 
effect.  He  walks,  talks,  and  acts  "  as  if  he  felt  the  eyes 
of  Europe  on  his  tail,"  almost  as  much  as  the  peacock. 

There  are  times,  however,  when  even  he  does  not  care 
to  be  seen,  and  it  was  observed  that  about  this  time  there 
were  a  goodly  number  of  the  citizens  of  Horsford  who 
modestly  retired  from  the  public  gaze,  some  of  them 
even  going  into  remote  States  with  some  precipitation  and 
an  apparent  desire  to  remain  for  a  time  unknown.  It  was 
even  rumored  that  Hesden  was  with  Nimbus,  disguised 
as  a  negro,  in  the  attack  made  on  the  Klan  during  the 
raid  on  Red  Wing,  and  that,  by  means  of  the  detectives, 
he  had  discovered  every  man  engaged  in  that  patriotic 
affair,  as  well  as  those  concerned  in  others  of  like  char 
acter.  The  disappearance  of  these  men  was,  of  course, 
in  no  way  connected  with  this  rumor.  Since  the 
"  Southern  people"  have  become  the  great  jesters  of  the 
world,  their  conduct  is  not  at  all  to  be  judged  by 
the  ordinary  rules  of  cause  and  effect  as  applied  to 
human  action.  It  might  have  been  mere  buffoonery, 
quite  as  well  as  modesty,  that  possessed  some  cf  the 
"best  citizens  of  Horsford  "  with  an  irrepressible  de 
sire  to  view  the  Falls  of  Niagara  from  the  Canadian  side 
in  mid-winter.  There  is  no  accounting  for  the  acts  of  a 
nation  of  masqueraders  ! 


41 6  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

But  perhaps  the  most  generally-accepted  version  of 
Hesden's  journey  was  that  he  had  run  away  to  espouse 
Mollie  Ainslie.  To  her  was  traced  his  whole  bias  toward 
the  colored  population  and  "  Radical  "  principles. 
Nothing  evil  was  said  of  her  character.  She  was  admit 
ted  to  be  as  good  as  anybody  of  her  class  could  be — in 
telligent,  bigoted,  plucky,  pretty,  and  malicious.  It  was 
a  great  pity  that  a  man  belonging  to  a  good  family  should 
become  infatuated  by  one  in  her  station.  He  could  never 
bring  her  home,  and  she  would  never  give  up  her  "  nig 
ger-equality  notions."  She  had  already  dragged  him 
down  to  what  he  was.  Such  a  man  as  he,  it  was  stren 
uously  asserted,  would  not  degrade  himself  to  stand  up 
for  such  a  man  as  Jordan  Jackson  or  to  associate  with 
"  niggers,"  without  some  powerful  extraneous  influence. 
That  influence  was  Mollie  Ainslie, who,  having  inveigled 
him  into  "  Radicalism,"  had  now  drawn  him  after  her 
into  the  North  and  matrimony. 

But  nowhere  did  the  conduct  of  Hesden  cause  more 
intense  or  conflicting  feelings  than  at  Mulberry  Hill. 
His  achievement  in  succoring,  hiding,  and  finally  rescu 
ing  Eliab  Hill  was  a  source  of  never-ending  wonder,  ap 
plause,  and  mirth  in  the  kitchen.  But  Miss  Hetty  could 
not  find  words  to  express  her  anger  and  chagrin.  Without 
being  at  all  forward  or  immodest,  she  had  desired  to  suc 
ceed  her  dead  sister  in  the  good  graces  of  Hesden  Le 
Moyne,  as  well  as  in  the  position  of  mistress  of  the  Hill. 
It  was  a  very  natural  and  proper  feeling.  They  were 
cousins,  had  always  been  neighbors,  and  Hesden's  mother 
had  encouraged  the  idea,  almost  from  the  time  of  his 
first  wife's  death.  It  was  no  wonder  that  she  was  jeal 
ous  of  the  Yankee  school-marm.  Love  is  keen-eyed,  and 
she  really  loved  her  cousin.  She  had  become  satisfied, 
during  her  stay  at  the  Hill,  that  he  was  deeply  attached 


IN   THE  CYCLONE.  4*7 

to  Mollie  Ainslie,  and  knew  him  too  well  to  hope  that 
he  would  change  ;  and  such  a  conviction  was,  of  course, 
not  pleasant  to  her  vanity.  But  when  she  was  convinced 
that  he  had  degraded  himself  and  her  by  espousing 
"  Radicalism"  and  associating  with  "  niggers,"  her 
wrath  knew  no  bounds.  It  seemed  an  especial  insult  to 
her  that  the  man  whom  she  had  honored  with  her  affec 
tion  should  have  so  demeaned  himself. 

Mrs.  Le  Moyne  was  at  first  astonished,  then  grieved, 
and  finally  angry.  She  especially  sympathized  with 
Hetty,  the  wreck  of  whose  hope  she  saw  in  this  revela 
tion.  If  Mollie  Ainslie  had  been  "  one  of  our  people," 
instead  of  "  a  Northern  nigger  school-teacher, "  there 
would  have  been  nothing  so  very  bad  about  it.  He  had 
never  professed  any  especial  regard  or  tenderness  for 
Miss  Hetty,  and  had  never  given  her  any  reason  to  ex 
pect  a  nearer  relation  than  she  had  always  sustained 
toward  him.  Mollie  was  good  enough  in  her  way,  bright 
and  pretty  and — but  faugh  !  the  idea  !  She  would  not 
believe  it  !  Hesden  was  not  and  could  not  be  a  "  Rad 
ical."  He  might  have  sheltered  Eliab — ought  to  have 
done  so  ;  that  she  would  say .  He  had  been  a  slave  of 
the  family,  and  had  a  right  to  look  to  her  son  for  protec 
tion.  But  to  be  a  "  Radical  !"  She  would  not  believe  it. 
There  was  no  use  in  talking  to  her.  She  remained  stub 
bornly  silent  after  she  had  gotten  to  the  conclusive  de 
nial  :  "  He  could  not  do  it  !" 

Nevertheless,  she  thought  it  well  to  use  her  power 
while  she  had  any.  If  he  was  indeed  a  "  Radical,"  she 
would  never  forgive  him — never  !  So  she  determined 
to  make  her  will.  A  man  learned  in  the  law  was 
brought  to  the  Hill,  and  Hester  Le  Moyne,  in  due  form, 
by  her  last  will  and  testament  devised  the  planata- 
tion  to  her  beloved  son  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  and  her  affec- 


4*8  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

tionate  cousin  Hetty  Lomax,  jointly,  and  to  their  heirs 
forever,  on  condition  that  the  said  devisees  should  inter 
marry  with  each  other  within  one  year  from  the  death  of 
the  devisor  ;  and  in  case  either  of  the  said  devisees 
should  refuse  to  intermarry  with  the  other,  then  the  part 
of  such  devisee  was  to  go  to  the  other,  who  should  there 
after  hold  the  fee  in  severalty,  free  of  all  claim  from  the 
other. 

The  New  York  and  Boston  papers  contained,  day 
after  day,  this  "  personal  :" 

"  The  heirs  of  James  Richards,  deceased,  formerly  of  Marble- 
head,  Massachusetts,  will  learn  something  to  their  advantage  by 
addressing  Theron  Pardee,  care  of  James  &  Jones,  Attorneys,  at 
No.  —  Broadway,  N.  Y." 

Mrs.  Le  Moyne  was  well  aware  of  this,  and  also  re 
membered  her  promise  to  surrender  the  estate,  should  an 
heir  be  found.  But  that  promise  had  been  made  under 
the  influence  of  Hesden's  ardent  zeal  for  the  right,  and 
she  found  by  indirection  many  excuses  for  avoiding  its 
performance.  "  Of  course,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  if 
heirs  should  be  found  in  my  lifetime,  I  would  revoke 
this  testament  ;  but  it  is  not  right  that  I  should  bind 
those  who  come  after  me  for  all  time  to  yield  to  his  Quix 
otic  notions.  Besides,  why  should  I  be  juster  than  the 
law  ?  This  property  has  been  in  the  family  for  a  long 
time,  and  ought  to  remain  there." 

Her  anger  at  Hesden  burned  very  fiercely,  and  she 
even  talked  of  refusing  to  see  him,  should  he  return, 
as  she  had  no  real  doubt  he  would.  The  excitement, 
however,  prostrated  her  as  usual,  and  her  anger  turned 
into  querulous  complainings  as  she  grew  weaker. 

The  return  of  Hesden,  hardly  a  week  after  his  depart 
ure,  brought  him  to  face  this  tide  of  vituperation  at  its 


IN    THE  CYCLONE.  419 

flood.  All  that  had  been  said  and  written  and  done  in 
regard  to  himself  came  forthwith  to  his  knowledge.  He 
was  amazed,  astounded  for  a  time,  at  the  revelation.  He 
had  not  expected  it.  He  had  expected  anger,  and  was 
prepared  to  meet  it  with  forbearance  and  gentleness  ; 
but  he  was  not  prepared  for  detraction  and  calumny  and 
insult.  He  had  not  been  so  very  much  surprised  at  the 
odium  which  had  been  heaped  upon  Jordan  Jackson. 
He  belonged  to  that  class  of  white  people  at  the  South 
to  whom  the  better  class  owed  little  duty  or  regard.  It 
was  not  so  strange  that  they  should  slander  that  man. 
He  could  understand,  too,  how  it  was  that  they  attributed 
to  the  colored  people  such  incredible  depravity,  such 
capacity  for  evil,  such  impossible  designs,  as  well  as  the 
reason  why  they  invented  for  every  Northern  man  that 
came  among  them  with  ideas  different  from  their  own 
a  fictitious  past,  reeking  with  infamy. 

He  could  sympathize  in  some  degree  with  all  of  this. 
He  had  not  thought,  himself,  that  it  was  altogether  the 
proper  thing  for  the  illiterate  "  poor-white"  man,  Jordan 
Jackson,  to  lead  the  negroes  of  the  county  in  political 
hostility  to  the  whites.  He  had  felt  naturally  the  distrust 
of  the  man  of  Northern  birth  which  a  century  of  hostility 
and  suspicion  had  bred  in  the  air  of  the  South.  He  had 
grown  up  in  it.  He  had  been  taught  to  regard  the  "  Yan 
kees"  (which  meant  all  Northerners)  as  a  distinct  people 
— sometimes  generous  and  brave,  but  normally  envious, 
mean,  low-spirited,  treacherous,  and  malignant.  He  ad 
mitted  the  exceptions,  but  they  only  proved  the  rule. 
As  a  class  he  considered  them  cold,  calculating,  selfish, 
greedy  of  power  and  wealth,  and  regardless  of  the 
means  by  which  these  were  acquired.  Above  all  things, 
he  had  been  taught  to  regard  them  as  animated  by 
hatred  of  the  South.  Knowing  that  this  had  been  his 


420  BRICKS  WI THO UT  S TKA  I V. 

own  bias,  he  could  readily  excuse  his  neighbors  for  the 
same. 

But  in  his  own  case  it  was  different.  He  was 
one  of  themselves.  They  knew  him  to  be  brave,  honor 
able,  of  good  family,  of  conservative  instincts,  fond  of 
justice  and  fair  play,  and  governed  in  his  actions  only  by 
the  sincerest  conviction.  That  they  should  accuse  him 
of  every  mean  and  low  impossibility  of  act  and  motive, 
and  befoul  his  holiest  purposes  and  thoughts,  was  to  him 
a  most  horrible  thing.  His  anger  grew  hotter  and  hotter, 
as  he  listened  to  each  new  tale  of  infamy  which  a  week 
had  sufficed  to  set  afloat.  Then  he  heard  his  mother's 
reproaches,  and  saw  that  even  her  love  was  not  proof 
against  a  mere  change  of  political  sentiment  on  his  part. 
These  things  set  him  to  thinking  as  he  had  never  thought 
before.  The  scales  fell  from  his  eyes,  and  from  the 
kindly  gentle  Southern  man  of  knightly  instincts  and 
gallant  achievements  was  born — the  "pestiferous  Radi 
cal."  He  did  not  hesitate  to  avow  his  conviction,  and 
from  that  moment  there  was  around  him  a  wall  of  fire. 
He  had  lost  his  rank,  degraded  his  caste,  and  fallen 
from  his  high  estate.  From  and  after  that  moment  he 
was  held  unworthy  to  wear  the  proud  appellation,  "  A 
Southern  Gentleman." 

However,  as  he  took  no  active  part  in  political  life, 
and  depended  in  no  degree  upon  the  patronage  or  good 
will  of  his  neighbors  for  a  livelihood,  he  felt  the  force  of 
this  feeling  only  in  his  social  relations.  Unaware,  as 
yet,  of  the  disherison  which  his  mother  had  visited  upon 
him  in  his  absence,  he  continued  to  manage  the  planta 
tion  and  conduct  all  the  business  pertaining  to  it  in  his 
own  name,  as  he  had  done  ever  since  the  close  of  the 
war.  At  first  he  entertained  a  hope  that  the  feeling 
against  him  would  die  out.  But  as  time  rolled  on,  and 


fJV   THE  CY CLONK.  421 

it  continued  still  potent  and  virulent,  he  came  to  analyze 
it  more  closely,  judging  his  fellows  by  himself,  and  saw 
that  it  was  the  natural  fruit  of  that  intolerance  which 
slavery  made  necessary — which  was  essential  to  its  exist 
ence.  Then  he  no  longer  wondered  at  them,  but  at 
himself.  It  did  not  seem  strange  that  they  should  feel 
as  they  did,  but  rather  that  he  should  so  soon  have 
escaped  from  the  tyrannical  bias  of  mental  habit.  He 
saw  that  the  struggle  against  it  must  be  long  and  bitter, 
and  he  determined  not  to  yield  his  convictions  to  the 
prejudices  of  others. 

It  was  a  strange  thing.  In  one  part  of  the  country — • 
and  that  the  greater  in  numbers,  in  wealth,  in  enterprise 
and  vigor,  in  average  intelligence  and  intellectual  achieve 
ments — the  sentiments  he  had  espoused  were  professed 
and  believed  by  a  great  party  which  prided  itself  upon 
its  intelligence,  purity,  respectability,  and  devotion  to 
principle.  In  two  thirds  of  the  country  his  sentiments  were 
held  to  be  honorable,  wise,  and  patriotic.  Every  act  he 
had  performed,  every  principle  he  had  reluctantly  avowed, 
would  there  have  been  applauded  of  all  men.  Nay,  the 
people  of  that  portion  of  the  country  were  unable  to 
believe  that  any  one  could  seriously  deny  those  principles. 
Yet  in  the  other  portion,  where  he  lived,  they  were  es 
teemed  an  ineffaceable  brand  of  shame,  which  no  merit 
of  a  spotless  life  could  hide. 

The  Southern  Clarion,  a  newspaper  of  the  County  of 
Horsford,  in  referring  to  his  conduct,  said  : 

' '  Of  all  such  an  example  should  be  made.  Inaugurate 
social  ostracism  against  every  white  man  who  gives  any 
support  to  the  Radical  Party.  Every  true  Southern  man 
or  woman  should  refuse  to  recognize  as  a  gentleman  any 
man  belonging  to  that  party,  or  having  any  dealings  with 
it.  Hesden  Le  Moyne  has  chosen  to  degrade  an  honored 


4-^  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

name.  He  has  elected  to  go  with  niggers,  nigger  teach 
ers,  and  nigger  preachers  ;  but  let  him  forever  be  an  out 
cast  among  the  respectable  and  high-minded  white  people 
of  Horsford,  whom  he  has  betrayed  and  disgraced  !" 

A  week  later,  it  contained  another  paragraph  : 

1 '  We  understand  that  the  purpose  of  Hesden  Le  Moyne 
in  going  to  the  North  was  not  entirely  to  stir  up  Northern 
prejudice  and  hostility  against  our  people.  At  least,  that 
is  what  he  claims.  He  only  went,  we  are  informed  he 
says,  to  take  the  half-monkey  negro  preacher  who  calls 
himself  Eliab  Hill  to  a  so-called  college  in  the  North  to 
complete  his  education.  We  shall  no  doubt  soon  have 
this  misshapen,  malicious  hypocrite  paraded  through  the 
North  as  an  evidence  of  Southern  barbarity. 

'  The  truth  is,  as  we  are  credibly  informed,  that  what 
injuries  he  received  on  the  night  of  the  raid  upon  Red 
Wing  were  purely  accidental.  There  were  some  in  the 
company,  it  seems,  who  were  disappointed  at  not  finding 
the  black  desperado,  Nimbus  Desmit,  who  was  organizing 
his  depraved  followers  to  burn,  kill,  and  ravish,  and  pro 
posed  to  administer  a  moderate  whipping  to  the  fellow 
Eliab,  who  was  really  supposed  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  all 
the  other's  rascality.  These  few  hot-heads  burst  in  the 
door  of  his  cabin,  but  one  of  the  oldest  and  coolest  of 
the  crowd  rushed  in  and,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  his  own 
life,  rescued  him  from  them.  In  order  to  bring  him  out 
into  the  light  where  he  could  be  protected,  he  caught  the 
baboon-like  creature  by  his  foot,  and  he  was  somewhat 
injured  thereby.  He  is  said  to  have  been  shot  also,  but 
we  are  assured  that  not  a  shot  was  fired,  except  by  some 
person  with  a  repeating  rifle,  who  fired  upon  the  com 
pany  of  white  men  from  the  woods  beyond  the  school- 
house.  It  is  probable  that  some  of  these  shots  struck 
the  preacher,  and  it  is  generally  believed  that  they  were 
fired  by  Hesden  Le  Moyne.  Several  who  were  there 
have  expressed  the  opinion  that,  from  the  manner  in 
which  the  shooting  was  done,  it  must  have  been  by  a  man 
with  one  arm.  However,  Eliab  will  make  a  good  Kadi- 
cal  show,  and  we  shall  have  another  dose  of  Puritanical, 


A    BOLT  OUT  OF   THE  CLOUD.  423 

Hypocritical  cant  about  Southern  barbarity.  Well,  we 
can  bear  it.  We  have  got  the  power  in  Horsford,  and, 
we  mean  to  hold  it.  Niggers  and  nigger-worshippers  must 
take  care  of  themselves.  This  is  a  white  man's  country, 
and  white  men  are  going  to  rule  it,  no  matter  whether 
the  North  whines  or  not." 

The  report  given  in  this  account  of  the  purpose  of  Hes- 
den's  journey  to  the  North  was  the  correct  one.  In  the 
three  months  in  which  the  deformed  man  had  been  un 
der  his  care,  he  had  learned  that  a  noble  soul  and  a  rare 
mind  were  shut  up  in  that  crippled  form,  and  had  deter 
mined  to  atone  for  his  former  coolness  and  doubt,  as  well 
as  mark  his  approval  of  the  course  of  this  hunted  victim, 
by  giving  him  an  opportunity  to  develop  his  powers.  He 
accordingly  placed  him  in  a  Northern  college,  and  be 
came  responsible  for  the  expenses  of  his  education. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

A    BOLT    OUT    OF    THE    CLOUD. 

A  YEAR  had  passed,  and  there  had  been  no  important 
change  in  the  relations  of  the  personages  of  our  story. 
The  teacher  and  her  "  obstreperous"  pupils  had  disap 
peared  from  Horsford  and  had  been  almost  forgotten. 
Hesden,  his  mother  and  Cousin  Hetty  still  led  their  ac 
customed  life  at  Red  Wing.  Detraction  had  worn  itself 
out  upon  the  former,  for  want  of  a  new  occasion.  He 
was  still  made  to  feel,  in  the  little  society  which  he  sa\v, 
that  he  was  a  black  sheep  in  an  otherwise  spotless  fold. 
He  did  not  complain.  He  did  not  account  himself  "  os 
tracised,"  nor  wonder  at  this  treatment.  He  saw  how 
natural  it  was,  how  consistent  with  the  training  and  de- 


424  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

velopment  his  neighbors  had  received.  He  simply  said 
to  himself,  and  to  the  fe\v  friends  who  still  met  him  kind 
ly,  "I  can  do  without  the  society  of  others  as  long  as 
they  can  do  without  mine.  I  can  wait.  This  thing 
must  end  some  time — if  not  in  my  day,  then  afterward. 
Our  people  must  come  out  of  it  and  rise  above  it.  They 
must  learn  that  to  be  Americans  is  better  than  to  be 
4  Southern.'  Then  they  will  see  that  the  interests  and 
safety  of  the  whole  nation  demand  the  freedom  and 
political  co-equality  of  all." 

These  same  friends  comforted  him  much  as  did  those 
who  argued  with  the  man  of  Uz. 

Mrs.  Le  Moyne's  life  had  gone  back  to  its  old  channel. 
Shut  out  from  the  world,  she  saw  only  the  fringes  of  the 
feeling  that  had  set  so  strongly  against  her  son.  Indeed, 
she  received  perhaps  more  attention  than  usual  in  the 
way  of  calls  and  short  visits,  since  she  was  understood 
to  have  manifested  a  proper  spirit  of  resentment  at  his 
conduct.  Hesden  himself  was  almost  the  only  one  who 
did  not  know  of  her  will.  It  was  thought,  of  course,  that 
she  was  holding  it  over  him  in  terrorem. 

Yet  he  was  just  as  tender  and  considerate  of  her  as 
formerly,  and  she  was  apparently  just  as  fond  of  him. 
She  had  not  yet  given  up  her  plan  of  a  matrimonial  alliance 
for  him  with  Cousin  Hetty,  but  that  young  lady  herself 
had  quite  abandoned  the  notion.  In  the  year  she  had 
been  at  Mulberry  Hill  she  had  come  to  know  Hesden  bet 
ter,  and  to  esteem  him  more  highly  than  ever  before.  She 
knew  that  he  regarded  her  with  none  of  the  feeling  his 
mother  desired  to  see  between  them,  but  they  had  be 
come  good  friends,  and  after  a  short  time  she  was  al 
most  the  only  one  of  his  relatives  that  had  not  allowed  his 
political  views  to  sunder  their  social  relations.  Living 
in  the  same  house,  it  was  of  course  impossible  to  main- 


A    BOLT  OUT  OF   THE  CLOUD.  425 

tain  a  constant  state  of  siege  ;  but  she  had  gone  farther, 
and  had  held  out  a  flag  of  truce,  and  declared  her  convic 
tion  of  the  honesty  of  his  views  and  the  honorableness 
of  his  intention.  She  did  not  think  as  he  did,  but  she 
had  finally  become  willing  to  let  him  think  for  himself. 
People  said  she  was  in  love  with  Hesden,  and  that  with 
his  mother's  aid  she  would  yet  conquer  his  indifference. 
She  did  not  think  so.  She  sighed  when  she  confessed 
the  fact  to  herself.  She  did  indeed  hope  that  he  had  for 
gotten  Mollie  Ainslie.  She  could  never  live  to  see  her 
mistress  at  the  dear  old  Hill  ! 

The  term  of  the  court  was  coming  on  at  which  the  suits 
that  had  been  brought  by  Winburn  against  the  occupants 
of  Red  Wing  must  be  tried.  Many  had  left  the  place, 
and  it  was  noticed  that  from  all  who  desired  to  leave, 
Theron  Pardee  had  purchased,  at  the  full  value,  the  titles 
which  they  held  under  Nimbus,  and  that  they  had  all 
gone  off  somewhere  out  West.  Others  had  elected  to 
remain,  with  a  sort  of  blind  faith  that  all  would  come  out 
right  after  a  while,  or  from  mere  disinclination  to  leave 
familiar  scenes — that  feeling  which  is  always  so  strong  in 
the  African  race. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Pardee  came  one  day  to  Mul 
berry  Hill  and  announced  his  readiness  to  make  re 
port  in  the  matter  intrusted  to  his  charge  concerning 
the  will  of  J.  Richards. 

"  Well,"  said  Hesden,  "  have  you  found  the  heirs  ?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Le  Moyne, "  said  Pardee  ; 
"  I  have  assumed  a  somewhat  complicated  relation  to 
this  matter,  acting  under  the  spirit  of  my  instructions, 
which  makes  it  desirable,  perhaps  almost  necessary, 
that  I  should  confer  directly  with  the  present  owner  of 
this  plantation,  and  that  is —  ?" 

"  My  mother,"  said  Hesden,  as  he  paused.      "  I  sup- 


4-6  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

pose  it  will  be  mine  some  time,"  he  continued  laughing, 
"  but  I  have  no  present  interest  in  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  And  is  Mrs.  Le  Moyne's 
health  such  as  to  permit  her  considering  this  matter 
now  ?" 

"  Oh,  1  think  so,"  said  Hesden.  "  I  will  see  her  and 
ascertain." 

In  a  short  time  the  attorney  was  ushered  into  the  in 
valid's  room,  where  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  reclining  on  her 
beautifully  decorated  couch,  received  him  pleasantly, 
exclaiming, 

'*  You  will  see  how  badly  off  I  am  for  company.  Captain 
Pardee,  when  I  assure  you  that  I  am  glad  to  see  even  a 
lawyer  with  such  a  bundle  of  papers  as  you  have 
brought.  I  have  literally  nobody  but  these  two  children, 
glancing  at  Hesden  and  Hetty,  "  and  I  declare  I  believe 
I  am  younger  and  more  cheerful  than  either  of  them." 

"  Your  cheerfulness,  madam,"  replied  Pardee,  "  is  an 
object  of  universal  remark  and  wonder.  I  sincerely 
trust  that  nothing  in  these  papers  will  at  all  affect  your 
equanimity." 

44  But  what  have  you  in  that  bundle,  Captain  ?"  she 
asked.  "  I  assure  you  that  I  am  dying  to  know  why  you 
should  insist  on  assailing  a  sick  woman  with  such  a 
formidable  array  of  documents." 

"  Before  proceeding  to  satisfy  your  very  natural 
curiosity,  madam,"  answered  Pardee,  with  a  glance  at 
Miss  Hetty,  "  permit  me  to  say  that  my  communica 
tion  is  of  great  moment  to  you  as  the  owner  of  this  plant 
ation,  and  to  your  son  as  your  heir,  and  is  of  such  a 
character  that  you  might  desire  to  consider  it  carefully 
before  it  should  come  to  the  knowledge  of  other  par 
ties." 

"  Oh,  nevermind  Cousin  Hetty,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne 


A    BOLT  OUT  OF    THE  CLOUD.  427 

quickly.      "  She  has  just  as  much  interest  in  the  matter 
as  any  one." 

The  lawyer  glanced  at  Hesden,  who  hastened   to  say, 

"  I  am  sure  there  can  be  nothing  of  interest  to  me 
which  I  would  not  be  willing  that  my  cousin  should 
know." 

The  young  lady  rose  to  go,  but  both  Hesden  and  Mrs. 
Le  Moyne  insisted  on  her  remaining. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Pardee,  "  there  can  be  no  objection 
on  my  part.  I  merely  called  your  attention  to  the  fact 
as  a  part  of  my  duty  as  your  legal  adviser." 

So  Miss  Hetty  remained  sitting  upon  the  side  of  the 
bed,  holding  one  of  the  invalid's  hands.  Pardee 
seated  himself  at  a  small  table  near  the  bed,  and,  having 
arranged  his  papers  so  that  they  would  be  convenient  for 
reference,  began  : 

"  You  will  recollect,  madam,  that  the  task  intrusted 
to  me  was  twofold  :  first,  to  verify  this  will  found  by 
your  son  and  ascertain  whose  testament  it  was,  its  valid 
ity  or  invalidity  ;  and,  in  case  it  was  valid,  its  effect  and 
force.  Secondly,  I  was  directed  to  make  all  reasonable 
effort,  in  case  of  its  validity  being  established,  to  ascer 
tain  the  existence  of  any  one  entitled  to  take  under  its 
provisions.  In  this  book,"  said  he,  holding  up  a  small 
volume,  "  I  have  kept  a  diary  of  all  that  I  have  done  in 
regard  to  the  matter,  with  dates  and  places.  It  will  give 
you  in  detail  what  I  shall  now  state  briefly. 

"  I  went  to  Lancaster,  where  the  will  purports  to  have 
been  executed,  and  ascertained  its  genuineness  by  prov 
ing  the  signatures  of  the  attesting  witnesses,  and  es 
tablished  also  the  fact  of  their  death.  These  affida 
vits" — holding  up  a  bundle  of  papers — "  show  that  I 
also  inquired  as  to  the  testator's  identity  ;  but  I  could 
learn  nothing  except  that  the  descendants  of  one  of  the 


428  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

witnesses  who  had  bought  your  ancestor's  farm,  upon 
his  removal  to  the  South,  still  had  his  deed  in  posses 
sion.  I  copied  it,  and  took  a  tracing  of  the  signature, 
which  is  identical  with  that  which  he  subsequently  used 
— James  Richards,  written  in  a  heavy  and  somewhat 
sloping  hand,  for  that  time.  I  could  learn  nothing  more 
in  regard  to  him  or  his  family. 

"  Proceeding  then  to  Marblehead,  I  learned  these 
facts.  There  were  two  parties  named  James  Richards. 
They  were  cousins  ;  and  in  order  to  distinguish  them 
from  each  other  they  were  called  by  the  family  and 
neighbors,  '  Red  Jim  '  and  '  Black  Jim  '  respectively — 
the  one  having  red  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  the  other 
dark  hair  and  black  eyes." 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  "I  was  the 
only  blonde  in  my  family,  and  I  have  often  heard  my 
father  say  that  I  got  it  from  some  ancestral  strain,  per 
haps  the  Whidbys,  and  resembled  his  cousins." 

'  Yes,"  answered  Pardee,  "  a  Whidby  was  a  common 
ancestress  of  your  father  and  his  cousin,  '  Red  Jim.'  It 
is  strange  how  family  traits  reproduce  themselves  in 
widely-separated  strains  of  blood." 

"Well,"  said  Hesden,  "did  you  connect  him  with 
this  will?" 

"  Most  conclusively,"  was  the  reply.  "  In  the  first 
place,  his  wife's  name  was  Edna — Edna  Goddard — before 
marriage,  and  he  left  an  only  daughter,  Alice.  He  was 
older  than  his  cousin,  '  Black  Jim,'  to  whom  he  was 
greatly  attached.  The  latter  removed  to  Lancaster, 
when  about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  having  inherited  a 
considerable  estate  in  that  vicinity.  I  had  not  thought 
of  examining  the  record  of  wills  while  in  Lancaster, 
but  on  my  return  1  went  to  the  Prothonotary's  office, 
and  verified  this  also.  So  there  is  no  doubt  about 


A   BOLT  OUT  OF    THE  CLOUD.  429 

the  '  Black  Jim  '  of  the  Marblehead  family  being  your 
ancestor." 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  Captain  Pardee  !"  interrupted  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne  quickly.  "  Isn't  Marblehead  near  Cape  Cod  ?" 

:'  Yes,  madam." 

"  And  Buzzard's  Bay  ?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  No  wonder,"  said  she,  laughing,  "  that  you  wanted 
Hetty  to  leave  before  you  opened  your  budget.  Do 
pray  run  away,  child,  before  you  hear  any  more  to  our 
discredit.  Hesden,  do  please  escort  your  cousin  out  of 
the  room,"  she  added,  in  assumed  distress. 

"  No  indeed,"  laughed  Miss  Hetty  ;  "  I  am  getting  in 
terested,  and  as  you  would  not  let  me  go  when  I  wished 
to,  I  have  now  determined  to  stay  till  the  last  horror  is 
revealed." 

"  It  is  too  late,  mother,"  said  Hesden  ruefully  ;  "  for 
tunately,  Cousin  Hetty  is  not  attainted,  except  collater 
ally,  thus  far." 

"  Well,  go  on,  Captain,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  gayly. 
"  What  else  ?  Pray  what  was  the  family  occupation — 
1  calling  '  I  believe  they  say  in  New  England.  I  sup 
pose  they  had  some  calling,  as  they  never  have  any 
'  gentlemen  '  in  that  country." 

Pardee' s  face  flushed  hotly.  He  was  bom  among  the 
New  Hampshire  hills  himself.  However,  he  answered 
calmly,  but  with  a  slight  emphasis, 

"  They  were  seafaring  men,  madam." 

44  Oh,  my  !"  cried  the  invalid,  clapping  her  hands. 
"Codfish!  codfish!  I  knew  it,  Hetty!  I  knew  it! 
Why  didn't  you  go  out  of  the  room  when  I  begged  you 
to  ?  Do  you  hear  it,  Hesden  ?  That  is  where  you  get 
your  Radicalism  from.  My  !  my  !"  she  laughed,  almost 
hysterically,  "  what  a  family  !  Codfish  at  one  end  and 


43°  Jt  KICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Radical  at  the  other  !  '  And  the  last  state  of  that  man 
was  worse  than  the  first  !  '  What  would  not  the  news 
papers  give  to  know  that  of  you,  Hesden  ?" 

She  laughed  until  the  tears  came,  and  her  auditors 
laughed  with  her.  Yet,  despite  her  mirth,  it  was  easy 
to  detect  the  evidence  of  strong  feeling  in  her  manner. 
She  carried  it  off  bravely,  however,  and  said, 

"  But,  perhaps,  Captain  Pardee,  you  can  relieve  us  a 
little.  Perhaps  they  were  not  cod-fishers  but  mackerel- 
ers.  I  remember  a  song  I  have  heard  my  father  sing, 
beginning, 

"  When  Jake  came  home  from  mack'rcling, 

He  sought  his  Sary  Ann, 
And  found  that  she,  the  heartless  thing, 
Had  found  another  man  !" 

"  Do  please  say  that  they  were  mackerelers  !" 

I  am  sorry  I  cannot  relieve  your  anxiety  on  that 
point,"  said  Pardee,  but  I  can  assure  you  they  were  a 
very  respectable  family." 

"  No  doubt,  as  families  go  'there,"  she  answered, 
with  some  bitterness.  '  They  doubtless  sold  good  fish, 
and  gave  a  hundred  pounds  for  a  quintal,  or  whatever  it 
is  they  sell  the  filthy  truck  by." 

'  They  were  very  successful  and  somewhat  noted  pri 
vateers  during  the  Revolution,"  said  Pardee. 

'  Worse  and  worse  !"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne.  Better 
they  were  fishermen  than  pirates  !  I  wonder  if  they 
didn't  bring  over  niggers  too  ?" 

14  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised,"  answered  Pardee 
coolly.  '  This  '  Red  Jim  '  was  master  and  owner  of  a 
vessel  of  some  kind,  and  was  on  his  way  back  from 
Charleston,  where  it  seems  he  had  sold  both  his  vessel 
and  cargo,  when  he  executed  this  will." 


A    BOLT  OUT  OF    THE  CLOUD.  43 l 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  it  is  his  will  ?"  asked 
Hesden. 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  doubt,"  said  Pardee.  "  Being  a 
shipmaster,  his  signature  was  necessarily  affixed  to  many 
papers.  I  have  found  not  less  than  twenty  of  these,  all 
identical  with  the  signature  of  the  will." 

'  That  would  certainly  seem  to  be  conclusive,"  said 
Hesden. 

4  Taken  with  other  things,  it  is,"  answered  Pardee. 
"  Among  other  things  is  a  letter  from  your  grandfather, 
which  was  found  pasted  inside  the  cover  of  a  Bible  that 
belonged  to  Mrs.  Edna  Richards,  in  regard  to  the  death 
of  her  husband.  In  it  he  says  that  his  cousin  visited 
him  on  his  way  home  ;  went  from  there  to  Philadel 
phia,  and  was  taken  sick  ;  your  grandfather  was  noti 
fied  and  went  on,  but  death  had  taken  place  before  he 
arrived.  The  letter  states  that  he  had  but  little  money 
and  no  valuable  papers  except  such  as  he  sent.  Out 
of  the  money  he  had  paid  the  funeral  expenses,  and  would 
remit  the  balance  as  soon  as  he  could  make  an  opportu 
nity.  The  tradition  in  '  Red  Jim's  '  family  is  that  he 
died  of  yellow  fever  in  Philadelphia,  on  his  way  home 
with  the  proceeds  of  his  sale,  and  was  robbed  of  his 
money  before  the  arrival  of  his  cousin.  No  suspicion 
seems  ever  to  have  fallen  on  "  Black  Jim." 

'  Thank  God  for  that  !"  ejaculated  Hesden  fervently. 

"  I  suppose  you  took  care  to  awaken  none,"  said  Mrs. 
Le  Moyne. 

"  I  spoke  of  it  to  but  one  person,  to  whom  it  became 
absolutely  necessary  to  reveal  it.  However,  it  is  per 
fectly  safe,  and  will  go  no  farther." 

"Well,  did  you  find  any  descendants  of  this  'Red 
Jim  '  living  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Le  Moyne. 

"  One,"  answered  Pardee. 


432  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"Only  one?"  said  she.  "I  declare.  Hesden,  the 
Richards  family  is  not  numerous  if  it  is  strong." 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  strong,'  mother  ?" 

"  Oh,  codfish  and  Radicals,  you  know  !" 

"  Now,  mother — " 

"  Oh,  if  you  hate  to  hear  about  it,  why  don't  you 
quit  the  dirty  crowd  and  be  a  gentleman  again.  Or  is 
it  your  new-found  cousin  you  feel  so  bad  for  ?  ]>y 
the  way,  Captain,  is  it  a  boy  or  girl,  and  is  it  old  or 
young  ?" 

"It  is  a  lady,  madam,  some  twenty  years  of  age  or 
thereabout." 

"A  lady?  Well,  I  suppose  that  is  what  they  call 
them  there.  Married  or  single  ?" 

"Single." 

"  What  a  pity  you  are  getting  so  old,  Hesden  !  You 
might  make  a  match  and  settle  her  claim  in  that  way. 
Though  I  don't  suppose  she  has  any  in  law." 

"  On  the  contrary,  madam,"  said  Pardee,  "her  title 
is  perfect.  She  can  recover  not  only  this  plantation  but 
every  rood  of  the  original  tract." 

'  You  don't  say  !"  exclaimed  the  invalid.     "  It  would 
make  her  one  of  the  richest  women  in  the  State  !" 

"  Undoubtedly." 

"  Oh,  it  cannot  be,  Captain  Pardee  !"  exclaimed  Miss 
Hetty.  "  It  cannot  be  !" 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  it,"  said  Pardee.  "She 
is  the  great-grand-daughter  of  '  Red  Jim,'  and  his  only 
lineal  descendant.  His  daughter  Alice,  to  whom  this  is  be 
queathed,  married  before  arriving  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
and  died  in  wedlock,  leaving  an  only  daughter,  who  also 
married  before  she  became  of  age,  and  also  died  in  wed 
lock,  leaving  a  son  and  daughter  surviving.  The  son 
died  without  heirs  of  his  body,  and  only  the  daughter  is 


.•/   BOLT  OUT  OF    THE  CLOUD,  433 

left.     There  has  never  been  an  hour  when  the  action  of 
the  statute  was  not  barred. " 

"  Have  you  seen  her  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Le  Moyne. 

11  Yes," 
Does  she  know  her  good  luck  ?" 

"  She  is  fully  informed  of  her  rights." 

14  Indeed  ?     You  told  her,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  I  found  her  already  aware  of  them." 

"  Why,  how  could  that  be  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,"  said  Pardee,  glancing 
sharply  at  Hesden. 

:<  What,"  said  Hesden,  with  a  start  ;  "  what  did  you 
say  is  the  name  of  the  heir  ?" 

"  I  did  not  say,"  said  Pardee  coolly.  Hesden  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and  going  across  the  room  stood  gazing  out 
of  the  window. 

"  Why  don't  you  tell  us  the  name  of  the  heir,  Cap 
tain  ?  You  must  know  we  are  dying  to  hear  all  about 
our  new  cousin,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  bitterly.  "  Is 
she  long  or  short,  fat  or  lean,  dark  or  fair  ?  Do  tell  us 
all  about  her  ?" 

"  In  appearance,  madam,"  said  Pardee  carelessly,  "  I 
should  say  she  much  resembled  yourself  at  her  age." 

"  Oh,  Captain,  you  flatter  me,  I'm  sure,"  she  an 
swered,  with  jitst  a  hint  of  a  sneer.  "  Well,  what  is 
her  name,  and  when  does  she  wish  to  take  possession  ?" 

"  Her  name,  madam,  you  must  excuse  me  if  I  with 
hold  for  the  present.  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  proposition 
of  compromise  from  her,  which,  if  accepted,  will,  I 
hope,  avoid  all  trouble.  If  not  accepted,  I  shall  find 
myself  under  the  necessity  of  asking  to  be  relieved  from 
further  responsibility  in  this  matter." 

"  Come  here,  Hesden,"  said  his  mother,  "  and  hear 
what  terms  your  new  cousin  wants  for  Mulberry  Hill. 


434  BXICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

I  hope  we  won't  have  to  move  out  till  spring.  It  would 
be  mighty  bad  to  be  out  of  doors  all  winter.  Go  on, 
Captain  Pardee,  Hesden  is  ready  no\v.  This  is  what 
comes  of  your  silly  idea  about  doing  justice  to  some  low- 
down  Yankee.  It's  a  pity  you  hadn't  sense  enough  to 
burn  the  will  up.  It  would  have  been  better  all  round. 
The  wealth  will  turn  the  girl's  head,  and  the  loss  of  my 
home  will  kill  me,"  she  continued  fiercely  to  her  son. 

"  As  to  the  young  lady,  you  need  have  no  fear,"  said 
Pardee.  "  She  is  not  one  of  the  kind  that  lose  their 
heads. 

"  Ah,  you  seem  to  be  quite  an  admirer  of  her  ?" 

"  I  am,  madam." 

"  If  we  do  not  accept  her  proposal,  you  will  no  doubt 
become  her  attorney  ?" 

"  1  am  such  already." 

"You  don't  say  so?  Well,  you  are  making  good 
speed.  I  should  think  you  might  have  wailed  till  you 
had  dropped  us  before  picking  her  up.  But  then,  it  will 
be  a  good  thing  to  be  the  attorney  of  such  an  heiress, 
and  \ve  shall  be  poor  indeed  after  she  gets  her  own  — as 
you  say  it  is." 

"  Madam,"  said  Pardee  seriously,  "  I  shall  expect 
you  to  apologize  both  to  me  and  to  my  client  when  you 
have  heard  her  proposition." 

"  I  shall  be  very  likely  to,  Mr.  Pardee,"  she  said,  with 
a  dry  laugh.  "  I  come  of  an  apologetic  race.  Old  Jim 
Richards  was  full  of  apologies.  He  liked  to  have  died 
of  them,  numberless  times.  But  what  is  your  proposal  ?" 

"  As  I  said,"  remarked  Pardee,  "  my  client — I  beg  par 
don — the  great-grand-daughter  of  *  Red  Jim  '  Richards, 
instructs  me  to  say  that  she  does  not  desire  to  stain  her 
family  name  or  injure  your  feelings  by  exposing  the 
fraud  of  your  ancestor,  '  Black  Jim  '  Richards. 


A   BOLT  OUT  OF    THE  CLOUD.  435 

"  What,  sir  !"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  sharply.  "  Fraud  ! 
You  had  better  measure  your  words,  sir,  when  you  speak 
of  my  father.  Do  you  hear  that,  Hesden  ?  Have  you 
lost  all  spirit  since  you  became  a  Radical  ?"  she  contin 
ued,  while  her  eyes  flashed  angrily. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  do  not  see  what  milder  term 
could  be  used,"  said  Hesden  calmly.  "Go  on  with 
your  proposition,  sir." 

"  Well,  as  I  said,"  continued  the  lawyer,  "  this  young 
lady,  desiring  to  save  the  family  name  and  your  feelings 
from  the  shock  of  exposure,  has  instructed  me  to  say  : 
First,  that  she  does  not  wish  to  disturb  any  of  those 
rights  which  have  been  obtained  by  purchase  from  your 
ancestor  ;  and  second,  that  she  understands  that  there 
is  a  dispute  in  regard  to  the  title  of  a  portion  of 
it — the  tract  generally  known  as  Red  Wing — neither 
of  the  parties  claiming  which  have  any  title  as 
against  her.  She  understands  that  the  title  held  by 
Winburn  is  technically  good  against  that  of  the 
colored  man,  Nimbus  Desmit,  providing  hers  is  not 
set  up. 

' '  Now  she  proposes  that  if  you  will  satisfy  Winburn 
and  obtain  a  quit-claim  from  him  to  Desmit,  she  will 
make  a  deed  in  fee  to  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  of  the  whole  tract  ; 
and  as  you  hold  by  inheritance  from  one  who  pur 
ported  to  convey  the  fee,  the  title  will  thereafter  be 
estopped,  and  all  rights  held  under  the  deeds  of  '  Black 
Jim  '  Richards  will  be  confirmed." 

"  Well,  what  else  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  breathlessly, 
as  he  paused. 

"  There  is  nothing  more." 

"  Nothing  more  !  Why,  does  the  girl  propose  to  give 
away  all  this  magnificent  property  for  nothing?"  she 
asked  in  astonishment. 


436  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW'. 

"  Absolutely  nothing  to  her  o\vn  comfort  or  advan 
tage,"  answered  the  attorney. 

"  Well,  now,  that  is  kind— that  is  kind  !"  said  the  in 
valid.  "  I  am  sorry  for  what  I  have  said  of  her,  Cap 
tain  Pardee." 

"  I  thought  you  would  be,  madam,"  lie  replied. 

"  You  must  attend  to  that  Red  Wing  matter  immedi 
ately,  Hesden,"  she  said,  thoughtfully. 

'  You  accept  the  proposal  then  ?"  asked  Pardee. 

"Accept,  man?  Of  course  we  do!"  said  Mrs.  Le 
Moyne. 

"  Stop,  mother  !"  said  Hesden.  "  You  may  accept 
for  yourself,  but  not  for  me.  Is  this  woman  able  to  give 
away  such  a  fortune  ?"  he  asked  of  Pardee. 

"  She  is  not  rich.  She  has  been  a  teacher,  and  has 
some  property — enough,  she  insists,  for  comfort,"  was 
the  answer. 

"  If  she  had  offered  to  sell,  I  would  have  bought  at 
any  possible  price,  but  I  cannot  take  such  a  gift  !" 

"  Do  you  accept  the  terms  ?"  asked  Pardee  of  Mrs. 
Le  Moyne. 

"I  do,"  she  answered  doggedly,  but  with  a  face 
flushing  with  shame. 

'  Then,  madam,  let  me  say  that  I  have  already  shown 
the  proofs  in  confidence  to  Winburn's  attorney.  He 
agrees  that  they  have  no  chance,  and  is  willing  to  sell  the 
interest  he  represents  for  five  hundred  dollars.  That  I 
have  already  paid,  and  have  taken  a  quit-claim  to  Desmit. 
Upon  the  payment  of  that,  and  my  bill  for  services,  I 
stand  ready  to  deliver  to  you  the  title." 

The  whole  amount  was  soon  ascertained  and  a  check 
given  to  Pardee  for  the  sum.  Thereupon  he  handed 
over  to  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  a  deed  in  fee-simple,  duly  exe 
cuted,  covering  the  entire  tract,  except  that  about  Red 


AN    UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER.  437 

Wing,  which  was  conveyed  to  Nimbus  in  a  deed  directly 
to  him.  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  unfolded  the  deed,  and  turning 
quickly  to  the  last  page  read  the  name  of  the  donor  : 

"  MOLLIE  AINSLIE  !" 

"  What  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  not  the  little  nigger  teacher 
at  Red  Wing  ?" 

'  The  same,  madam,"  said  Pardee,  with  a  smile  and 
a  bow. 

The  announcement  was  too  much  for  the  long-excited 
invalid.  She  fell  back  fainting  upon  her  pillow,  and 
while  Cousin  Hetty  devoted  herself  to  restoring  her  re 
lative  to  consciousness,  Pardee  gathered  up  his  papers 
and  withdrew.  Hesden  followed  him,  presently,  and 
asked  where  Miss  Ainslie  was. 

"  I  am  directed,"  said  Pardee,  "  not  to  disclose  her 
residence,  but  will  at  any  time  forward  any  communica 
tion  you  may  desire  to  make." 


CHAPTER    LV. 

AN    UNCONDITIONAL    SURRENDER. 

THE  next  day  Mr.  Pardee  received  a  note  from  Mrs. 
Le  Moyne,  requesting  him  to  come  to  Mulberry  Hill  at 
his  earliest  convenience.  Being  at  the  time  disengaged, 
he  returned  with  the  messenger.  Upon  being  ushered 
again  into  the  invalid's  room,  he  found  Miss  Hetty 
Lomax  with  a  flushed  face  standing  by  the  bedside. 
Both  the  ladies  greeted  him  with  some  appearance  cf  em 
barrassment. 

"  Cousin  Hetty,"  said  the  invalid,  "  will  you  ask  Hes 
den  to  come  here  for  a  moment  ?" 


438  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Miss  Hetty  left  the  room,  and  returned  a  moment 
afterward  in  company  with  Hesden. 

"  Hesden,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,  "  were  you  in  ear 
nest  in  what  you  said  yesterday  in  regard  to  receiving 
any  benefits  under  this  deed  ?" 

"Certainly,  mother,"  replied  Hesden;  "I  could 
never  consent  to  do  so." 

'Very  well,  my  son,"  said  the  invalid;  "you  arc 
perhaps  right  ;  but  I  wish  you  to  know  that  I  had  here 
tofore  made  my  will,  giving  to  you  and  Cousin  Hetty  a 
joint  interest  in  my  estate.  You  know  the  feeling  which 
induced  me  to  do  so.  1  am  in  the  confessional  to-day, 
and  may  as  well  admit  that  I  was  hasty  and  perhaps  un 
just  in  so  doing.  In  justice  to  Cousin  Hetty  I  wish  also 
lo  say — 

"  Oh,  please,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne,"  interrupted  Hetty, 
blushing  deeply. 

"  Hush,  my  child,"  said  the  invalid  tenderly  ;  "  i 
must  be  just  to  you  as  well  as  to  others.  Hetty,"  she 
continued,  turning  her  eyes  upon  Hesden,  who  stood 
looking  in  wonder  from  one  to  the  other,  "  has  long 
tried  to  persuade  me  to  revoke  that  instrument.  I  have 
at  length  determined  to  cancel  and  destroy  it,  and 
shall  proceed  to  make  a  new  one,  which  I  desire  that 
both  of  you  shall  witness  when  it  has  been  drawn." 

Being  thus  dismissed,  Hesder.  and  his  cousin  with 
drew,  while  Pardee  seated  himseli*  at  the  little  table  by  the 
bedside,  on  which  writing  materials  had  already  been 
placed,  and  proceeded  to  receive  instructions  and  pre 
pare  the  will  as  she  directed.  When  it  had  been  com 
pleted  and  read  over  to  her,  she  said,  wearily, 

"  That  is  right." 

The  attorney  called  Hesden  and  his  cousin,  who,  hav 
ing  witnessed  the  will  by  her  request,  again  withdrew. 


AN   UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER.  439 

"  Now  Mr.  Pardee,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  sadly,  "  I 
believe  that  I  have  done  my  duty  as  well  as  Hesden  has 
done  his.  It  is  hard,  very  hard,  for  me  to  give  up  pro 
jects  which  I  have  cherished  so  long.  As  I  have  consti 
tuted  you  my  executor,  I  desire  that  you  will  keep  this 
will,  and  allow  no  person  to  know  its  contents  unless 
directed  by  me  to  do  so,  until  my  death." 

'  Your  wishes  shall  be  strictly  complied  with, 
madam,"  said  Pardee,  as  he  folded  the  instrument  and 
placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  I  have  still  another  favor  to  request  of  you,  Mr. 
Pardee,"  she  said.  "  I  have  written  this  note  to  Miss 
Ainslie,  which  I  wish  you  to  read  and  then  transmit  to  her. 
No,  no,"  she  continued,  as  she  saw  him  about  to  seal 
the  letter  which  she  had  given  him,  without  reading 
it;  "you  must  read  it.  You  know  something  of 
what  it  has  cost  me  to  write  it,  and  will  be  a  better 
judge  than  I  as  to  whether  it  contains  all  that  I  should 
say. 

Thus  adjured,  Pardee  opened  the  letter  and  read  : 

"MULBERRY  HILL,   Saturday,  Oct.  8,  1871. 
"  MY  DEAR  Miss  AINSLIE  : 

"  Captain  Pardee  informed  us  yesterday  of  your  nobly 
disinterested  action  in  regard  to  the  estate  rightfully  be 
longing  to  you.  Words  cannot  express  my  gratitude  for 
the  consideration  you  have  shown  to  our  feelings  in  thus 
shielding  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Mr.  Pardee  will 
transmit  to  you  with  this  the  papers,  showing  that  we 
have  complied  with  your  request.  Pardon  me  if  I  do 
not  write  as  warmly  as  I  ought.  One  as  old  and  proud 
as  I  cannot  easily  adapt  herself  to  so  new  and  strange 
a  role.  I  hope  that  time  will  enable  me  to  think  more 
calmly  and  speak  more  freely  of  this  matter. 

14  Hoping  you  will  forgive  my  constraint,  'and  believe 
that  it  arises  from  no  lack  of  appreciation  of  your  mag 
nanimity,  but  only  springs  from  my  own  weakness  ;  and 


44°  Ji RICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

asking  your  pardon  for  all  unkindness  of  thought,  word, 
or  act  in  the  past,  I  remain, 

"  Yours  gratefully, 
"  HESTER  RICHARDS  LE  MOYNE." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Le  Moyne, "  said  Pardee,  as  he  ex 
tended  his  hand  and  grasped  that  of  the  suffering 
woman,  "  I  am  sure  Miss  Ainslie  would  never  require 
any  such  painful  acknowledgment  at  your  hands." 

"  I  know  she  would  not,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  it  is  not 
she  that  requires  it,  but  myself — my  honor,  Mr.  Pardee. 
You  must  not  suppose,  nor  must  she  believe,  that  the 
wife  of  a  Le  Moyne  can  forget  the  obligations  of  justice, 
though  her  father  may  have  unfortunately  done  so." 

"  But  I  am  sure  it  will  cause  her  pain,"  said  Pardee. 

"  Would  it  cause  her  less  were  I  to  refuse  what  she 
has  so  delicately  given  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  the  attorney. 
'  Then  I  see  no  other  way." 

"  Perhaps  there  is  none,"  said  Pardee  thoughtfully. 
4  You  think  I  have  said  enough  ?"  she  asked. 
'  You  could  not  say  more,"  was  the  reply.     After  a 
moment's  pause  he  continued,    *"'  Are  you  willing  that  1 
should  give  Miss  Ainslie  any  statement  I  may  choose  of 
this  matter  ?" 

"  I  should  prefer,"  she  answered,  "  that  nothing  more 
be  said  ;  unless,"  she  added,  with  a  smile,  "you  con 
ceive  that  your  duty  imperatively  demands  it." 

"  And  Hesden  ?"  he  began. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  she  said,  with  dignity  ;  "  I  will 
not  conceal  from  you  that  my  son's  course  has  given  me 
great  pain  ;  indeed,  you  are  already  aware  of  that  fact. 
Since  yesterday,  I  have  for  the  first  time  admitted  to  my 
self  that  in  abandoning  the  cause  of  the  Southern  people 
he  has  acted  from  a  sense  of  duty.  My  own  inclination, 


A.V   UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER.  441 

after  sober  second  thought,"  she  added,  as  a  slight  flush 
overspread  her  pale  face,  "would  have  been  to  refuse, 
as  he  has  done,  this  bounty  from  the  hands  of  a  stranger  ; 
more  particularly  from  one  in  the  position  which  Miss 
Ainslie  has  occupied  ;  but  I  feel  also  that  her  unexpect 
ed  delicacy  demands  the  fullest  recognition  at  our  hands. 
Hesden  will  take  such  course  as  his  own  sense  of  honor 
may  dictate." 

"  Am  I  at  liberty  to  inform  him  of  the  nature  of  the 
testament  which  you  have  made  ?" 

"  I  prefer  not." 

"  Well,"  said  Pardee,  "  if  there  is  nothing  more  to  be 
done  I  will  bid  you  good-evening,  hoping  that  time  may 
yet  bring  a  pleasant  result  out  of  these  painful  circum 
stances." 

After  the  lawyer  had  retired,  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  sum 
moned  her  son  to  her  bedside  and  said, 

"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me,  Hesden,  for  all — 

"  Stop,  mother,"  said  he,  playfully  laying  his  hand 
over  her  mouth  ;  "  I  can  listen  to  no  such  language 
from  you.  When  I  was  a  boy  you  used  to  stop  my  con 
fessions  of  wrong-doing  with  a  kiss  ;  how  much  more 
ought  silence  to  be  sufficient  between  us  now." 

He  knelt  by  her  side  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 

"  Oh,  my  son,  my  son  !"  said  the  weeping  woman, 
as  she  pushed  back  the  hair  above  his  forehead  and 
looked  into  his  eyes  ;  "  only  give  your  mother  time — you 
know  it  is  so  hard — so  hard.  I  am  trying,  Hesden  ;  and 
you  must  be  very  kind  to  me,  very  gentle.  It  will  not 
be  for  long,  but  we  must  be  alone — all  alone — as  we  were 
before  all  these  things  came  about.  Only,"  she  added 
sobbingly,  "  only  little  Hildreth  is  not  here  now." 

"  Believe  me,  mother,"  said  he,  and  the  tears  fell 
upon  the  gentle  face  over  which  he  bent,  "  I  will  do 


442.  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

nothing  to  cause  you  pain.  My  opinions  I  cannot  re 
nounce,  because  I  believe  them  right." 

"  I  kno\v,  I  know,  ray  son,"  she  said  ;  but  it  is  so 
hard — so  hard — to  think  that  we  must  lose  the  place 
which  we  have  always  held  in  the  esteem  of — all  those 
about  us." 

There  was  silence  for  a  time,  and  then  she  continued, 

"Hetty  thinks  it  is  best — that — that  she — should — 
not  remain  here  longer  at  this  time.  She  is  perhaps 
right,  my  son.  You  must  not  blame  her  for  anything 
that  has  occurred  ;  indeed — indeed  she  is  not  at  fault. 
In  fact,"  she  added,  "  she  has  done  much  toward 
showing  me  my  duty.  Of  course  it  is  hard  for  her,  as 
it  is  for  me,  to  be  under  obligations  to— to — such  a 
one  as  Miss  Ainslie.  It  is  very  hard  to  believe  that  she 
could  have  done  as  she  has  without  some — some  un 
worthy  motive." 

14  Mother  !"  said  Hesden  earnestly,  raising  his  head 
and  gazing  reproachfully  at  her. 

i4  Don't — don't,  my  son  !  I  am  trying — believe  me,  I 
am  trying  ;  but  it  is  so  hard.  Why  should  she  give  up 
all  this  for  our  sakes  ?" 

"  Not  for  ours  mother — not  for  ours  alone  ;  for  her 
own  as  well." 

"  Oh,  my  son,  what  does  she  know  of  family  pride  ?" 

"Mother,"  said  he  gravely,  "she  is  prouder  than 
we  ever  were.  Oh,  I  know  it," — seeing  the  look  of  in 
credulity  upon  her  face  ; — "  prouder  than  any  Richards 
or  Le  Moyne  that  ever  lived  ;  only  it  is  a  different  kind  of 
pride.  She  would  starve,  mother,"  he  continued  impet 
uously  ;  "  she  would  work  her  ringers  to  the  bone  rather 
than  touch  one  penny  of  that  estate." 

"  Oh,  why — why,  Hesden,  should  she  do  that  ?  Just 
to  shield  my  father's  name  ?" 


SOME  OLD  LETTERS.  443 

"  Not  alone  for  that, "said  Hesden.  "  Partly  to  show 
that  she  can  give  you  pride  for  pride,  mother." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Hesden  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

' '  Will  you  promise  me  one  thing  ?' ' 

"  Whatever  you  shall  ask." 

"  Do  not  write  to  her,  nor  in  any  way  communicate 
with  her,  except  at  my  request." 

"  As  you  wish." 


CHAPTER    LVI. 

S  O  M  F.      O  L  D     L  E  T  T  E  R  S  . 

I. 

"  RED  WING,  Saturday,  Feb.  15,  1873. 
"  MlSS  MOLLIE  AlNSLIE  : 

"  I  avail  myself  of  your  kind  permission  to  address  you 
a  letter  through  Captain  Pardee,  to  whom  I  will  forward 
this  to-morrow.  I  would  have  written  to  you  before,  be- 
qause  I  knew  you  must  be  anxious  to  learn  how  things 
are  at  this  place,  where  you  labored  so  long  ;  but  I  was 
very  busy — and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  felt  somewhat 
hurt  that  you  should  withhold  from  me  for  so  long  a 
time  the  knowledge  even  of  where  you  were.  It  is  true, 
I  have  known  that  you  were  somewhere  in  Kansas  ;  but 
I  could  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not  wish  it  to  be 
known  exactly  where  ;  nor  can  I  now.  I  was  so  foolish 
as  to  think,  at  first,  that  it  was  because  you  did  not  wish 
the  people  where  you  now  live  to  know  that  you  had 
ever  been  a  teacher  in  a  colored  school. 

"  When  I  returned  here,  however,  and   learned   some- 


444  ft  RICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

thing  of  your  kindness  to  our  people — how  you  had  saved 
the  property  of  my  dear  lost  brother  Nimbus,  and 
provided  for  his  wife  and  children,  and  the  wife  and 
children  of  poor  Berry,  and  so  many  others  of 
those  who  once  lived  at  Red  Wing  ;  and  when  I  heard 
Captain  Pardee  read  one  of  your  letters  to  our  people, 
saying  that  you  had  not  forgotten  us,  I  was  ashamed 
that  I  had  ever  had  such  a  thought.  I  know  that  you 
must  have  some  good  reason,  and  will  never  seek  to 
know  more  than  you  may  choose  to  tell  me  in  regard  to 
it.  You  may  think  it  strange  that  I  should  have  had 
this  feeling  at  all  ;  but  you  must  remember  that  people 
afflicted  as  I  am  become  very  sensitive — morbid,  per 
haps — and  are  very  apt  to  be  influenced  by  mere  imagi 
nation  rather  than  by  reason. 

41  After  completing  my  course  at  the  college,  for  which 
I  can  never  be  sufficiently  grateful  to  Mr.  Hesden,  I 
thought  at  first  that  I  would  write  to  you  and  see  if  1 
could  not  obtain  work  among  some  of  my  people  in  the 
West.  Before  I  concluded  to  do  so,  however,  the  Presi 
dent  of  the  college  showed  me  a  letter  asking  him  to 
recommend  some  one  for  a  colored  school  in  one  of  the 
Northern  States.  He  said  he  would  be  willing  to  recom 
mend  me  for  that  position.  Of  course  I  felt  very  grate 
ful  to  him,  and  very  proud  of  the  confidence  he  showed 
in  my  poor  ability.  Before  I  had  accepted,  however,  I 
received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hesden,  saying  that  he  had 
rebuilt  the  school-house  at  Red  Wing,  that  the  same  kind 
people  who  furnished  it  before  had  furnished  it  again, 
and  that  he  wished  the  school  to  be  re-opened,  and 
desired  me  to  come  back  and  teach  here.  At  first 
I  thought  I  could  not  come  ;  for  the  memory  of  that  ter 
rible  night — the  last  night  that  I  was  here— came  before 
me  whenever  I  thought  of  it  ;  and  I  was  so  weak  as  to 


HOME  OLD  LE7^TERS.  445 

think  I  could  not  ever  come  here  again.  Then  I 
thought  of  Mr.  Hesden,  and  all  that  he  had  done  for  me, 
and  felt  that  I  would  be  making  a  very  bad  return  for 
his  kindness  should  I  refuse  any  request  he  might  make. 
So  I  came,  and  am  very  glad  that  I  did. 

"  It  does  not  seem  like  the  old  Red  Wing,  Miss  Mollie. 
There  are  not  near  so  many  people  here,  and  the  school 
is  small  in  comparison  with  what  it  used  to  be.  Some 
how  the  life  and  hope  seem  to  have  gone  out  of  our 
people,  and  they  do  not  look  forward  to  the  future 
with  that  confident  expectation  which  they  used  to 
have.  It  reminds  me  very  much  of  the  dull,  plodding 
hopelessness  of  the  old  slave  time.  It  is  true,  they  are 
no  longer  subject  to  the  terrible  cruelties  which  were  for 
a  while  visited  upon  them  ;  but  they  feel,  as  they  did  in 
the  old  time,  that  their  rights  are  withheld  from  them, 
and  they  see  no  hope  of  regaining  them.  With  their 
own  poverty  and  ignorance  and  the  prejudices  of  the 
white  people  to  contend  with,  it  does  indeed  seem  a  hope 
less  task  for  them  to  attempt  to  be  anything  more,  or 
anything  better,  than  they  are  now.  I  am  even  surprised 
that  they  do  not  go  backward  instead  of  forward  under 
the  difficulties  they  have  to  encounter. 

"  I  am  learning  to  be  more  charitable  than  I  used  to 
be,  Miss  Mollie,  or  ever  would  have  been  had  I  not  re 
turned  here.  It  seems  to  me  now  that  the  white  people 
are  not  so  much  to  be  blamed  for  what  has  been  done 
and  suffered  since  the  war,  as  pitied  for  that  prejudice 
which  has  made  them  unconsciously  almost  as  much 
slaves  as  my  people  were  before  the  war.  I  see,  too, 
that  these  things  cannot  be  remedied  at  once.  It  will 
be  a  long,  sad  time  of  waiting,  which  I  fear  our  people 
will  not  endure  as  well  as  they  did  the  tiresome  waiting 
for  freedom.  I  used  to  think  that  the  law  could  give  us 


44^  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

our  rights  and  make  us  free.  I  now  see,  more  clearly 
than  ever  before,  that  we  must  not  only  make  ourselves 
free,  but  must  overcome  all  that  prejudice  which  slavery 
created  against  our  race  in  the  hearts  of  the  white  people. 
It  is  a  long  way  to  look  ahead,  and  I  don't  wonder  that  so 
many  despair  of  its  ever  being  accomplished.  I  know  it 
can  only  be  done  through  the  attainment  of  knowledge 
and  the  power  which  that  gives. 

"  I  do  not  blame  for  giving  way  to  despair  those  who 
are  laboring  for  a  mere  pittance,  and  perhaps  not  re 
ceiving  that  ;  who  have  wives  and  children  to  support, 
and  see  their  children  growing  up  as  poor  and  ignorant 
as  themselves.  If  I  were  one  of  those,  Miss  Mollie, 
and  whole  and  sound,  I  wouldn't  stay  in  this  country 
another  day.  I  would  go  somewhere  where  my  chil 
dren  would  have  a  chance  to  learn  what  it  is  to  be  free, 
whatever  hardship  I  might  have  to  face  in  doing  so,  for 
their  sake.  But  I  know  that  they  cannot  go — at  least  not 
all  of  them,  nor  many  of  them  ;  and  I  think  the  Lord  has 
dealt  with  me  as  he  has  in  order  that  I  might  be  willing 
to  stay  here  and  help  them,  and  share  with  them  the 
blessed  knowledge  which  kind  friends  have  given  to  me. 

"  Mr.  Hesden  comes  over  to  see  the  school  very  often, 
and  is  very  much  interested  in  it.  I  have  been  over  to 
Mulberry  Hill  once,  and  saw  the  dear  old  *  Mistress.' 
She  has  failed  a  great  deal,  Miss  Mollie,  and  it  does  seem 
as  if  her  life  of  pain  was  drawing  to  an  end.  She  was 
very  kind  to  me,  asked  all  about  my  studies,  how  I  was 
getting  on,  and  inquired  very  kindly  of  you.  She 
seemed  very  much  surprised  when  I  told  her  that  I  did 
not  know  where  you  were,  only  that  you  were  in  the 
West.  It  is  no  wonder  that  she  looks  worn  and 
troubled,  for  Mr.  Hesden  has  certainly  had  a  hard  time. 
I  do  not  think  it  is  as  bad  now  as  it  has  been,  and  some 


SOME  OLD,  LETTERS.  447 

of  the  white  people,  even,  say  that  he  has  been  badly 
treated.  -But,  Miss  Mollie,  you  can't  imagine  the  abuse  he 
has  had  to  suffer  because  he  befriended  me,  and  is  what 
they  call  a  '  Radical. ' 

'  There  is  one  thing  that  I  cannot  understand.  I  can 
see  why  the  white  people  of  the  South  should  be  so 
angry  about  colored  people  being  allowed  to  vote.  I  can 
understand,  too,  why  they  should  abuse  Mr.  Hesden, 
and  the  few  like  him,  because  they  wish  to  see  the 
colored  people  have  their  rights  and  become  capable  of 
exercising  them.  It  is  because  they  have  always  believed 
that  we  are  an  inferior  race,  and  think  that  the  attempt 
to  elevate  us  is  intended  to  drag  them  down.  But  I 
cannot  see  why  the  people  of  the  North  should  think  so 
ill  of  such  men  as  Mr.  Hesden.  It  would  be  a  dis 
grace  for  any  man  there  to  say  that  he  was  opposed  to 
the  colored  man  having  the  rights  of  a  citizen,  or  having 
a  fair  show  in  any  manner.  But  they  seem  to  think  that 
if  a  man  living  at  the  South  advocates  those  rights,  or 
says  a  word  in  our  favor,  he  is  a  low-down,  mean  man.  If 
we  had  a  few  men  like  Mr.  Hesden  in  every  county,  I  think 
it  would  soon  be  better  ;  but  if  it  takes  as  long  to  get  each 
one  as  it  has  to  get  him,  I  am  afraid  a  good  many  genera 
tions  will  live  and  die  before  that  good  time  will  come. 

"  I  meant  to  have  said  more  about  the  school,  Miss 
Mollie  ;  but  I  have  written  so  much  that  I  will  wait  until 
the  next  time  for  that.  Hoping  that  you  will  have  time 
to  write  to  me,  I  remain 

"  Your  very  grateful  pupil, 

"  ELIAB  HILL." 
II. 

"  MULBERRY  HILL,  Wednesday,  March  5,  1873. 
"  Miss  MOLLIE  AINSLIE  : 

'  Through  the    kindness    of  our    good    friend,    Cap- 


448  BXJCfCS   WITHOUT  STA'All'. 

tain  Pardee,  I  send  you  this  letter,  together  with  an 
instrument,  the  date  of  which  you  will  observe  is  the 
same  as  that  of  my  former  letter.  You  will  see  that 
I  have  regarded  myself  only  as  a  trustee  and  a  bene 
ficiary,  during  life,  of  your  self-denying  generosity. 
The  day  after  I  received  your  gift,  I  gave  the  planta 
tion  back  to  you,  reserving  only  the  pleasing  privilege 
of  holding  it  as  my  own  while  I  lived.  The  opportu 
nity  which  I  then  hoped  might  some  time  come  has  now 
arrived.  1  can  write  to  you  now  without  constraint  or 
bitterness.  My  pride  has  not  gone  ;  but  I  am  proud  of 
you,  as  a  relative  proud  as  myself,  and  far  braver  and 
more  resolute  than  I  have  ever  been. 

"  My  end  is  near,  and  I  am  anxious  to  see  you  once 
more.  The  dear  old  plantation  is  just  putting  on  its 
spring  garment  of  beauty.  Will  you  not  come  and 
look  upon  your  gift  in  its  glory,  and  gladden  the 
heart  of  an  old  woman  whose  eyes  long  to  look  upon 
your  face  before  they  see  the  brightness  of  the  upper 
world  ? 

"  Come,  and  let  me  say  to  the  people  of  Horsford  that 
you  are  one  of  us — a  Richards  worthier  than  the  worthi 
est  they  have  known  ! 

'  Yours,  with  sincerest  love, 

"  HESTER  RICHARDS  LE  MOYNE. 

44  P.  S. — I  ought  to  say  that,  although  Hesden  is  one 
of  the  witnesses  to  my  will,  he  knows  nothing  of  its  con 
tents.  He  does  not  know  that  I  have  written  to  you, 
but  I  am  sure  he  will  be  glad  to  see  you. 

44  H.  R.  LE  M." 

III. 
Mrs.  Le  Moyne  received  the  following  letter  in  reply  : 


SOME  OLD  LErFTERS.  449 

"  March  15,  1873. 
"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  LE  MOYNE  : 

"Your  letter  gave  me  far  greater  pleasure  than 
you  can  imagine.  But  you  give  me  much  more  credit  for 
doing  what  I  did  than  I  have  any  right  to  receive. 
While  I  know  that  I  would  do  the  same  now,  to 
give  you  pleasure  and  save  you  pain,  as  readily  as 
I  did  it  then  from  a  worse  motive,  I  must  confess 
to  you  that  I  did  it,  almost  solely  I  fear,  to  show 
you  that  a  Yankee  girl,  even  though  a  teacher  of  a  col 
ored  school,  could  be  as  proud  as  a  Southern  lady.  I 
did  it  to  humiliate  you.  Please  forgive  me  ;  but  it  is 
true,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  receive  your  praise  for  what 
really  deserves  censure,  i  have  been  ashamed  of  myself 
very  many  times  for  this  unworthy  motive  for  an  act 
which  was  in  itself  a  good  one,  but  which  I  am  glad  to 
have  done,  even  so  unworthily. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  love,  which  I  hope  I  may  better 
deserve  hereafter.  I  inclose  the  paper  which  you  sent 
me,  and  hope  you  will  destroy  it  at  once.  I  could  not 
take  the  property  you  have  so  kindly  devised  to  me,  and 
you  can  readily  see  what  trouble  I  should  have  in  be 
stowing  it  where  it  should  descend  as  an  inheritance. 

"  Do  not  think  that  I  need  it  at  all.  I  had  a  few 
thousands  which  I  invested  in  the  great  West  when  I  left 
the  South,  three  years  ago,  in  order  to  aid  those  poor 
colored  people  at  Red  Wing,  whose  sufferings  appealed 
so  strongly  to  my  sympathies.  By  good  fortune  a  rail 
road  has  come  near  me,  a  town  has  been  built  up  near 
by  and  grown  into  a  city,  as  in  a  moment,  so  that  my 
venture  has  been  blessed  ;  and  though  I  have  given  away 
some,  the  remainder  has  increased  in  value  until  I  feel 
myself  almost  rich.  My  life  has  been  very  pleasant,  and 
I  hope  not  altogether  useless  to  others. 


45  °  BRICK'S  1 1 7  77/0  U  T  S  TKA  1 1  \ 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  do  as  you  wish.  I  know 
that  you  will  believe  that  I  do  not  now  act  from  any  un 
worthy  motive,  or  from  any  lack  of  appreciation  of  your 
kindness,  or  doubt  of  your  sincerity.  Thanking  you 
again  for  your  kind  words  and  hearty  though  undeserved 
praises,  I  remain, 

'  Yours  very  truly, 

"  MOLI.IE  AlNSLIE." 

"  Hesden,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  to  her  son,  as  he  sat 
by  her  bedside  while  she  read  this  letter,  "  will  you  not 
write  to  Miss  Ainslie  ?" 

"  What  !"  said  he,  looking  up  from  his  book  in  sur 
prise.  "  Do  you  mean  it  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do,  my  son,"  she  answered,  with  a  glance 
of  tenderness.  "  1  tried  to  prepare  you  a  surprise,  and 
wrote  for  her  to  come  and  visit  us  ;  but  she  will  not 
come  at  my  request.  I  am  afraid  you  are  the  only  one 
who  can  overcome  her  stubbornness. 

"  I  fear  that  I  should  have  no  better  success,"  he 
answered. 

Nevertheless,  he  went  to  his  desk,  and,  laying  out 
some  paper,  he  placed  upon  it,  to  hold  it  in  place  while 
he  wrote,  a  great  black  hoof  with  a  silver  shoe,  bearing 
on  the  band  about  its  crown  the  word  "  Midnight." 
After  many  attempts  he  wrote  as  follows  : 

"Miss  MOLUE  AINSLIE: 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  come  and  see  you,  upon  the 
conditions  imposed  when  I  saw  you  last  ? 

"  HESDEN  LE  MOYNE." 

IV. 

While  Hesden  waited  for  an  answer  to  this  letter,  which 
had  been  forwarded  through  Captain  Patdce,  he  received 


SOME  OLD  LETTERS.  451 

one    from    Jordan    Jackson.       It  was    somewhat  badly 
spelled,  but  he  made  it  out  to  be  as  follows  : 

"  EUPOLIA,  KANSAS,  Sunday,  March  23.  1873. 
"  MY  DEAR  LE   MOYNE  : 

"  I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you  for  a  long 
time,  but  have  been  too  busy.  You  never  saw  such 
a  busy  country  as  this.  It  just  took  me  off  my  legs 
when  I  first  came  out  here.  I  thought  I  knew  what 
it  meant  to  '  git  up  and  git.'  Nobody  ever  counted 
me  hard  to  start  or  slow  to  move,  down  in  that  coun 
try  ;  but  here — God  bless  you,  Le  Moyne,  I  found 
I  wasn't  half  awake  !  Work  ?  Lord  !  Lord  !  how  these 
folks  do  work  and  tear  around  !  It  don't  seem  so  very 
hard  either,  because  when  they  have  anything  to  do  they 
don't  do  nothing  else,  and  when  have  nothing  to  do  they 
make  a  business  of  that,  too. 

'  Then,  they  use  all  sorts  of  machinery,  and  never  do 
anything  by  hand-power  that  a  horse  can  be  made  to  do, 
in  any  possible  way.  The  horses  do  all  the  ploughing, 
sowing,  hoeing,  harvesting,  and,  in  fact,  pretty  much  all 
the  farm-work  ;  while  the  man  sits  up  on  a  sulky-seat  and 
fans  himself  with  a  palm-leaf  hat.  So  that,  according  to 
my  reckoning,  one  man  here  counts  for  about  as  much 
as  four  in  our  country. 

"  I  have  moved  from  where  I  first  settled,  which  was 
in  a  county  adjoining  this.  I  found  that  my  notion  of 
just  getting  a  plantation  to  settle  down  on,  where  I 
could  make  a  living  and  be  out  of  harm's  way,  wasn't  the 
thing  for  this  country,  nohow.  A  man  who  comes  here 
must  pitch  in  and  count  for  all  he's  worth.  It's  a  regu 
lar  ground-scuffle,  open  to  all,  and  everybody  choosing 
his  own  hold.  Morning,  noon,  and  night  the  world  is 
awake  and  alive  ;  and  if  a  man  isn't  awake  too,  it 


45  2  H KICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

tramps  on  right  over  him  and  wipes  him  out,  just  as  a 
stampeded  buffalo  herd  goes  over  a  hunter's  camp. 

"  Everybody  is  good-natured  and  in  dead  earnest. 
Every  one  that  comes  is  welcome,  and  no  questions 
asked.  Kin  and  kin-in-law  don't  count  worth  a  cuss. 
Nobody  stops  to  ask  where  you  come  from,  what's  your 
politics,  or  whether  you've  got  any  religion.  They  don't 
care,  if  you  only  mean  '  business.'  They  don't  make 
no  fuss  over  nobody.  There  ain't  much  of  what  we  call 
'  hospitality  '  at  the  South,  making  a  grand  flourish  and 
a  big  lay-out  over  anybody  ;  but  they  just  take  it,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  that  you  are  all  right  and  square  and 
honest,  and  as  good  as  anybody  till  you  show  up'dif- 
erent.  There  ain't  any  big  folks  nor  any  little  ones.  Of 
course,  there  are  rich  folks  and  poor  ones,  but  the  poor 
are  just  as  respectable  as  the  rich,  feel  just  as  big,  and 
take  up  just  as  much  of  the  road.  There  ain't  any 
crawling  nor  cringing  here.  Everybody  stands  up  straight, 
and  don't  give  nor  take  any  sass  from  anybody  else. 
The  West  takes  right  hold  of  every  one  that  comes  into 
it  and  makes  him  a  part  of  itself,  instead  of  keeping  him 
outside  in  the  cold  to  all  eternity,  as  the  South  does  the 
strangers  who  go  there. 

"  I  don't  know  as  you'd  like  it  ;  but  if  any  one  who 
has  been  kept  down  and  put  on,  as  poor  men  are 
at  the  South,  can  muster  pluck  enough  to  get  away  and 
come  here,  he'll  think  he's  been  born  over  again,  or  I'm 
mistaken.  Nobody  asks  your  politics.  I  don't  reckon 
anybody  knew  mine  for  a  year.  The  fact  is,  we're  all 
too  busy  to  fuss  with  our  neighbors  or  cuss  them  about 
their  opinions.  I've  heard  more  politics  in  a  country 
store  in  Horsford  in  a  day  than  I've  heard  here  in  Eupo- 
lia  in  a  year — and  we've  got  ten  thousand  people  here, 
too.  I  moved  here  last  year,  and  am  doing  well.  I 


SOME  OLD  LETTERS.  453 

wouldn't  go  back  and  live  in  lhatd — d  hornet's  nest  that 
I  felt  so  bad  about  leaving — not  for  the  whole  State,  with 
a  slice  of  the  next  one  throwed  in. 

"  I've  meant  to  tell  you,  a  half  dozen  times,  about 
that  little  Yankee  gal  that  used  to  be  at  Red  Wing  ;  but 
I've  been  half  afraid  to,  for  fear  you  would  get  mad 
about  it.  My  wife  said  that  when  she  came  away  there 
was  a  heap  of  talk  about  you  being  sorter  '  sweet  '  on 
the  '  nigger-school-marm.'  I  knew  that  she  was  sick  at 
your  house  when  I  was  there,  and  so,  putting  the  two 
together,  I  'llowed  that  for  once  there  might  be  some 
truth  in  a  Horsford  rumor.  I  reckon  it  must  have  been 
a  lie,  though  ;  or  else  she  '  kicked  '  you,  which  she 
wouldn't  stand  a  speck  about  doing,  even  if  you  were  the 
President,  if  you  didn't  come  up  to  her  notion.  It's  a 
mighty  high  notion,  too,  let  me  tell  you  ;  and  the  man 
that  gits  up  to  it  '11  have  to  climb.  Bet  your  life  on  that  ! 

41  But  that's  all  no  matter.  I  reckon  you'll  be  glad  to 
know  how  she's  gettin'  on  out  here,  anyhow.  She  come 
here  not  a  great  while  after  I  did  ;  but,  bless  your  stars, 
she  wasn't  as  green  as  I,  not  by  any  manner  of  means. 
She  didn't  want  to  hide  out  in  a  quiet  part  of  the  coun 
try,  where  the  world  didn't  turn  around  but  once  in 
two  days.  No,  sir  !  She  was  keen — just  as  keen  as 
a  razor-blade.  She  run  her  eye  over  the  map  and  got 
inside  the  railroad  projects  somehow,  blessed  if  I  know 
how  ;  and  then  she  just  went  off  fifty  miles  out  of  the 
track  others  was  taking,  and  bought  up  all  the  land  she 
could  pay  for,  and  got  trusted  for  all  the  credit  that  that 
brought  her  ;  and  here  she  is  now,  with  Eupolia  building 
right  up  on  her  land,  and  just  a-busting  up  her  quarter- 
sections  into  city  lots,  day  after  day,  till  you  can't  rest. 

"  Just  think  on't,  Moyne  !  It's  only  three  years  ago 
and  she  was  teaching  a  nigger  school,  there  in  Red 


454  BRICK'S   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Wing  ;  and  now,  God  bless  you,  here  she  is,  just  a 
queen  in  a  city  that  wasn't  nowhere  then.  I  tell  you, 
she's  a  team  !  Just  as  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  as  wide 
awake  as  a  hornet  in  July.  She  beats  anything  I  ever 
did  see.  She's  given  away  enough  to  make  two  or 
three,  and  I'll  be  hanged  if  it  don't  seem  to  me  that 
every  cent  she  gives  just  brings  her  in  a  dollar.  The 
people  here  just  worship  her,  as  they  have  a  good  right 
to  ;  but  she  ain't  a  bit  stuck  up.  She's  got  a  whole  lot  of 
them  Red  Wing  niggers  here,  and  has  settled  them  down 
and  put  them  to  work,  and  made  them  get  on  past  all 
expectation.  She  just  tells  right  out  about  her  having 
taught  a  nigger  school  down  in  Horsford,  and  nobody 
seems  to  think  a  word  on't.  In  fact,  I  b'lieve  they 
rather  like  her  better  for  it. 

"  I  heard  about  her  soon  after  she  came  here,  but,  to 
tell  the  truth,  I  thought  I  was  a  little  better  than  a 
'nigger-teacher,'  if  I  was  in  Kansas.  So  I  didn't 
mind  anything  about  her  till  Eupolia  began  to  grow, 
and  I  came  to  think  about  going  into  trading 
again.  Then  I  came  over,  just  to  look  around,  you 
know.  I  went  to  see  the  little  lady,  feeling  mighty 
'shamed,  you  may  bet,  and  more  than  half  of  the  notion 
that  she  wouldn't  care  about  owning  that  she'd  ever  seen 
me  before.  But,  Lord  love  you  !  I  needn't  have  had  any 
fear  about  that.  Nobody  ever  had  a  heartier  welcome 
than,  she  gave  me,  until  she  found  that  I  had  been  living 
only  fifty  miles  away  for  a  year  and  hadn't  let  her  know. 
Then  she  come  down  on  me — Whew  !  I  thought  there 
was  going  to  be  a  blizzard,  sure  enough. 

1  Jordan  Jackson,'  said  she,  '  you  just  go  home  and 
bring  that  wife  and  them  children  here,  where  they  can 
see  something  and  have  a  rest.' 

"  I  had  to  do  it,   and  they  just  took  to  staying  in 


SOME  OLD  LETTERS.  455 

Eupolia  here  nigh  about  all  the  time.  So  I  thought  I 
might  as  well  come  too  ;  and  here  I  am,  doing  right  well, 
and  would  be  mighty  glad  to  see  an  old  friend  if  you  could 
make  up  your  mind  to  come  this  way.  We  are  all  well, 
and  remember  you  as  the  kindest  of  all  old  friends  in 
our  time  of  need. 

"  I  never  wrote  as  long  a  letter  as  this  before,  and 
never  'How  to  do  it  again. 

'  Your  true  friend, 

"  JORDAN  JACKSON." 

V. 

In  due  time  there  came  to  Hesden  Le  Moyne  an  en 
velope,  containing  only  a  quaintly-shaped  card,  which 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  cut  from  the  bark  of  a  brown- 
birch  tree.  On  one  side  was  printed,  in  delicate  script 
characters, 

"  Miss  Mollie  Ainslie^ 
Eitpolia, 

Kansas." 

On  the  other  was  written  one  word  :  "  Come." 

A  bride  came  to  Mulberry  Hill  with  the  May  roses, 
and  when  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  had  kissed  her  who  knelt  be 
side  her  chair  for  a  maternal  benison,  she  placed  a  hand 
on  either  burning  cheek,  and,  holding  the  face  at  arm's 
length,  said,  with  that  archness  which  never  forsook  her, 
"  What  am  I  to  do  about  the  old  plantation  ?  Hesden 
refuses  to  be  my  heir,  and  you  refuse  to  be  my  devisee  ; 
must  I  give  it  to  the  poor  ?" 

The  summer  bloomed  and  fruited  ;  the  autumn  glowed 
and  faded  ;  and  peace  and  happiness  dwelt  at  Red  Wing. 
But  when  the  Christmas  came,  wreaths  of  immortelles 
lay  upon  a  coffin  in  *'  Mother's  Room,"  and  Hesden 


456  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  Mollie  dropped  their  tears  upon  the  sweet,  pale  face 
within. 

So  Hesden  and  Mollie  dwelt  at  Red  Wing.  The 
heirs  of  "  Red  Jim"  had  their  own,  and  the  children  of 
"  Black  Jim"  were  not  dispossessed. 


CHAPTER    LVII. 

A    SWEET    AND    BITTER    FRUITAGE. 

THE  charms  of  the  soft,  luxurious  climate  were  pecul 
iarly  grateful  to  Mollie  after  the  harshness  of  the  Kansas 
winter  and  the  sultry  summer  winds  that  swept  over  the 
heated  plains.  There  was  something,  too,  very  pleasant 
in  renewing  her  associations  with  that  region  in  a  relation 
so  different  from  that  under  which  she  had  formerly  known 
it.  As  the  teacher  at  Red  Wing,  her  life  had  not  been 
wholly  unpleasant  ;  but  that  which  had  made  it  pleasant 
had  proceeded  from  herself  and  not  from  others.  The 
associations  which  she  then  formed  had  been  those  of 
kindly  charity — the  affection  which  one  has  for  the  objects 
of  sympathetic  care.  So  far  as  the  world  in  which  she  now 
lived  was  concerned — the  white  world  and  white  people 
of  Horsford — she  had  known  nothing  of  them,  nor  they 
of  her,  but  as  each  had  regarded  the  other  as  a  curious 
study.  Their  life  had  been  shut  out  from  her,  and  her 
life  had  been  a  matter  that  did  not  interest  them.  She 
had  wondered  that  they  did  not  think  and  feel  as 
she  did  with  regard  to  the  colored  people  ;  and  they, 
that  any  one  having  a  white  skin  and  the  form  of  woman 
should  come  a  thousand  miles  to  become  a  servant  of 
servants.  The  most  charitable  among  them  had  deemed 
her  a  fool  ;  the  less  charitable,  a  monster. 


A  S IV EE  T  A  ND  BI T TER  PR  UITA  GE.  457 

.In  the  few  points  of  contact  which  she  had  with  them 
personally,  she  had  found  them  pleasant.  In  the  few  re 
lations  which  they  held  toward  the  colored  people,  and 
toward  her  as  their  friend,  she  had  found  them  brutal 
and  hateful  beyond  her  power  to  conceive.  Then,  her 
life  had  been  with  those  for  whom  she  labored,  so  far  as 
it  was  in  or  of  the  South  at  all.  They  had  been  the  ob 
jects  of  her  thought,  her  interest,  and  her  care.  Their 
wrongs  had  entered  into  her  life,  and  had  been  the 
motive  of  her  removal  to  the  West.  Out  of  these  con 
ditions,  by  a  curious  evolution,  had  grown  a  new  life, 
which  she  vainly  tried  to  graft  upon  the  old  without 
apparent  disjointure. 

Now,  by  kinship  and  by  marriage,  she  belonged  to  one 
of  the  most  respectable  families  of  the  region.  It  was 
true  that  Hesden  had  sullied  his  family  name  by  be 
coming  a  Radical  ;  but  as  he  had  never  sought  offi 
cial  position,  nor  taken  any  active  part  in  enforcing  or 
promulgating  the  opinions  which  he  held  ;  had,  in  fact, 
identified  himself  with  the  party  of  odious  princi 
ples  only  for  the  protection  of  the  victims  of  persecution 
or  the  assertion  of  the  rights  of  the  weak — he  was  re 
garded  with  much  more  toleration  and  forbearance  than 
would  otherwise  have  been  displayed  toward  him. 

In  addition  to  this,  extravagant  rumors  came  into 
the  good  county  of  Horsford  respecting  the  wealth  which 
Mollie  Ainslie  had  acquired,  and  of  the  pluck  and  enter 
prise  which  she  had  displayed  in  the  far  West.  It  was 
thought  very  characteristic  of  the  brave  young  teacher  of 
Red  Wing,  only  her  courage  was  displayed  there  in  a 
different  manner.  So  they  took  a  sort  of  pride  in  her, 
as  if  she  had  been  one  of  themselves  ;  and  as  they  told 
to  each  other  the  story  of  her  success,  they  said,  "  Ah, 
I  knew  she  would  make  her  mark  !  Any  girl  that  had 


4 5 8  BXICA'S   I r'7 TJIO L'T  S TKA  \ ! '. 

her  pluck  was  too  good  to  remain  a  nigger-teacher 
long.  It  was  lucky  for  Hesden,  though.  By  George  ! 
he  made  his  Radicalism  pay,  didn't  he  ?  Well,  well  ; 
as  long  as  he  don't  trouble  anybody,  I  don't  see  why  we 
should  not  be  friends  with  him — if  he  is  a  Radical." 
So  they  determined  that  they  would  patronize  and 
encourage  Hesden  Le  Moyne  and  his  wife,  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  be  won  back  to  his  original  excellence, 
and  that  she  might  be  charmed  with  the  attractions 
of  Southern  society  and  forget  the  bias  of  her  Yankee 
origin. 

The  occupants  of  Mulberry  Hill,  therefore,  received 
much  attention,  and  before  the  death  of  Hesden's  mother 
had  become  prime  favorites  in  the  society  of  Horsford. 
It  is  true  that  now  and  then  they  met  with  some  exhibi 
tion  of  the  spirit  which  had  existed  before,  but  in  the 
main  their  social  life  was  pleasant  ;  and,  for  a  consider 
able  time,  Hesden  felt  that  he  had  quite  regained  his 
original  status  as  a  "  Southern  gentleman,"  while  Mollie 
wondered  if  it  were  possible  that  the  people  whom  she 
now  met  upon  such  pleasant  terms  were  those  who  had, 
by  their  acts  of  violence,  painted  upon  her  memory  such 
horrible  and  vivid  pictures.  She  began  to  feel  as  if  she 
had  done  them  wrong,  and  sought  by  every  means  in  her 
power  to  identify  herself  with  their  pleasures  and  their 
interests. 

At  the  same  time,  she  did  not  forget  those  for  whom  she 
had  before  labored,  and  who  had  shown  for  her  such  true 
and  devoted  friendship.  The  school  at  Red  Wing  was 
an  especial  object  of  her  care  and  attention.  Rarely  did  a 
week  pass  that  her  carriage  did  not  show  itself  in  the  lit 
tle  hamlet,  and  her  bright  face  and  cheerful  tones  brought 
encouragement  and  hope  to  all  that  dwelt  there.  Having 
learned  from  Hesden  and  Eliab  the  facts  with  regard  to 


A   SWEET  AND  BITTER  FRUITAGE.  459 

the  disappearance  of  Nimbus,  she  for  a  long  time 
shared  Lugena's  faith  in  regard  to  her  husband,  and  had 
not  yet  given  up  hope  that  he  was  alive.  Indeed,  she 
had  taken  measures  to  discover  his  whereabouts  ;  but  all 
these  had  failed.  Still,  she  would  not  abandon  the  hope 
that  he  would  some  time  reappear,  knowing  how  difficult 
it  was  to  trace  one  altogether  unnoted  by  any  except  his 
own  race,  who  were  not  accustomed  to  be  careful  or  in 
quisitive  with  regard  to  the  previous  life  of  their  fellows. 

Acting  as  his  trustee,  not  by  any  specific  authority, 
but  through  mere  good-will,  Hesden  had  managed  the 
property,  since  the  conclusion  of  the  Winburn  suit,  so  as 
to  yield  a  revenue,  which  Lugena  had  carefully  applied 
to  secure  a  home  in  the  West,  in  anticipation  of  her  hus 
band's  return.  This  had  necessarily  brought  him  into 
close  relations  with  the  people  of  Red  Wing,  who  had 
welcomed  Mollie  with  an  interest  half  proprietary  in 
its  character.  Was  she  not  their  Miss  Mollie  ?  Had  she 
not  lived  in  the  old  "  Or'nary, "  taught  in  their  school, 
advised,  encouraged,  and  helped  them  ?  They  flocked 
around  her,  each  reminding  her  of  his  identity  by  recall 
ing  some  scene  or  incident  of  her  past  life,  or  saying, 
with  evident  pride,  "  Miss  Mollie,  I  was  one  of  your 
scholars — I  was. ' ' 

She  did  not  repel  their  approaches,  nor  deny  their 
claim  to  her  attention.  She  recognized  it  as  a  duty  that 
she  should  still  minister  to  their  wants,  and  do  what  she 
could  for  their  elevation.  And,  strangely  enough,  the 
good  people  of  Horsford  did  not  rebel  nor  cast  her  off 
for  so  doing.  The  rich  wife  of  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  the 
queen  of  the  growing  Kansas  town,  driving  in  her  car 
riage  to  the  colored  school-house,  and  sitting  as  lady 
patroness  upon  the  platform,  was  an  entirely  different 
personage,  in  their  eyes,  from  the  Yankee  girl  who  rode 


460  BKlCh'S  WITHOUT 

Midnight  up  and  down  the  narrow  streets,  and  who 
wielded  the  pedagogic  sceptre  in  the  log  school-house 
that  Nimbus  had  built.  She  could  be  allowed  to  pat 
ronize  the  colored  school  ;  indeed,  they  rather  admired 
her  for  doing  so,  and  a  few  of  them  now  and  then  went 
with  her,  especially  on  occasions  of  public  interest,  and 
wondered  at  the  progress  that  had  been  made  by  that 
race  whose  capacity  they  had  always  denied. 

Every  autumn  Hesden  and  Mollie  went  to  visit  her 
Kansas  home,  to  look  after  her  interests  there,  help  and 
advise  her  colored  proteges,  breathe  the  free  air,  and 
gather  into  their  lives  something  of  the  busy,  bustling 
spirit  of  the  great  North.  The  contrast  did  them  good. 
Hesden' s  ideas  were  made  broader  and  fuller  ;  her  heart 
was  reinvigorated  ;  and  both  returned  to  their  Southern 
home  full  of  hope  and  aspiration  for  its  future. 

So  time  wore  on,  and  they  almost  forgot  that  they  held 
their  places  in  the  life  which  was  about  them  by  suffer 
ance  and  not  of  right  ;  that  they  were  allowed  the  privi 
lege  of  associating  with  the  "  best  people  of  Horsford," 
not  because  they  were  of  them,  or  entitled  to  such  privi 
lege,  but  solely  upon  condition  that  they  should  submit 
themselves  willingly  to  its  views,  and  do  nothing  or  at 
tempt  nothing  to  subvert  its  prejudices. 

Since  the  county  had  been  "  redeemed"  it  had  been 
at  peace.  The  vast  colored  majority,  once  overcome, 
had  been  easily  held  in  subjection.  There  was  no  longer 
any  violence,  and  little  show  of  coercion,  so  far  as  their 
political  rights  were  concerned.  At  first  it  was  thought 
necessary  to  discourage  the  eagerness  with  which  they 
sought  to  exercise  the  elective  franchise,  by  frequent 
reference  to  the  evils  which  had  already  resulted  there 
from.  Now  and  then,  when  some  ambitious  colored  man 
had  endeavored  to  organize  his  people  and  to  secure  po- 


A  S WEE  T  A ND  BIT TER  PR UI TA GE.  461 

litical  advancement  through  their  suffrages,  he  had  been 
politely  cautioned  in  regard  to  the  danger,  and  the  fate 
which  had  overwhelmed  others  was  gently  recalled  to 
his  memory.  For  a  while,  too,  employers  thought  it 
necessary  to  exercise  the  power  which  their  relations 
with  dependent  laborers  gave  them,  to  prevent  the  neg 
lect  of  agricultural  interests  for  the  pursuit  of  political 
knowledge,  and  especially  to  prevent  absence  from  the 
plantation  upon  the  day  of  election.  After  a  time,  how 
ever,  it  was  found  that  such  care  was  unnecessary.  The 
laws  of  the  State,  carefully  revised  by  legislators  wisely 
chosen  for  that  purpose,  had  taken  the  power  from  the 
irresponsible  hands  of  the  masses,  and  placed  it  in  the 
hands  of  the  few,  who  had  been  wont  to  exercise  it  in 
the  olden  time. 

That  vicious  idea  which  had  first  grown  up  on  the  in 
clement  shores  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  and  had  been 
nourished  and  protected  and  spread  abroad  through 
out  the  North  and  West  as  the  richest  heritage  which 
sterile  New  England  could  give  to  the  states  her  sons 
had  planted  ;  that  outgrowth  of  absurd  and  fanatical 
ideas  which  had  made  the  North  free,  and  whose  ab 
sence  had  enabled  the  South  to  remain  "  slave" — the 
township  system,  with  its  free  discussion  of  all  matters, 
even  of  the  most  trivial  interest  to  the  inhabitants  ;  that 
nursery  of  political  virtue  and  individual  independence 
of  character,  comporting,  as  it  did,  very  badly  with  the 
social  and  political  ideas  of  the  South — this  system  was 
swept  away,  or,  if  retained  in  name,  was  deprived  of 
all  its  characteristic  elements. 

In  the  foolish  fever  of  the  reconstruction  era  this  sys 
tem  had  been  spread  over  the  South  as  the  safeguard  of 
the  new  ideas  and  new  institutions  then  introduced.  It 
was  foolishly  believed  that  it  would  produce  upon  the 


462  &  KICKS  WI THO  U  T  S  TXA  1 1'. 

soil  of  the  South  the  same  beneficent  results  as  had 
crowned  its  career  at  the  North.  So  the  counties  were 
subdivided  into  small  self-governing  communities,  every 
resident  in  which  was  entitled  to  a  voice  in  the  manage 
ment  of  its  domestic  interests.  Trustees  and  school 
commissioners  and  justices  of  the  peace  and  constables 
were  elected  in  these  townships  by  the  vote  of  the  inhab 
itants.  The  roads  and  bridges  and  other  matters  of 
municipal  finance  were  put  directly  under  the  control  of 
the  inhabitants  of  these  miniature  boroughs.  Massa 
chusetts  was  superimposed  upon  South  Carolina.  That 
system  which  had  contributed  more  than  all  else  to  the 
prosperity,  freedom,  and  intelligence  of  the  Northern 
community  was  invoked  by  the  political  theorists  of  the 
reconstruction  era  as  a  means  of  like  improvement  there. 
It  did  not  seem  a  dangerous  experiment.  One  would 
naturally  expect  similar  results  from  the  same  system  in 
different  sections,  even  though  it  had  not  been  specifi 
cally  calculated  for  both  latitudes.  Especially  did  this 
view  seem  natural,  when  it  was  remembered  that  wher 
ever  the  township  system  had  existed  in  any  fullness  or 
perfection,  there  slavery  had  withered  and  died  without 
the  scath  of  war  ;  that  wherever  in  all  our  bright  land  the 
township  system  had  obtained  a  foothold  and  reached 
mature  development,  there  intelligence  and  prosperity 
grew  side  by  side  ;  and  that  wherever  this  system  had 
not  prevailed,  slavery  had  grown  rank  and  luxuriant, 
ignorance  had  settled  upon  the  people,  and  poverty  had 
brought  its  gaunt  hand  to  crush  the  spirit  of  free  men 
and  establish  the  dominion  of  class. 

The  astute  politicians  of  the  South  saw  at  once  the  in 
sane  folly  of  this  project.  They  knew  that  the  system 
adapted  to  New  England,  the  mainspring  of  Western 
prosperity,  the  safeguard  of  intelligence  and  freedom  at 


A  SWEET  AND  BITTER  FRUITAGE.  463 

the  North,  could  not  be  adapted  to  the  social  and  politi 
cal  elements  of  the  South.  They  knew  that  the  South 
had  grown  up  a  peculiar  people  ;  that  for  its  government, 
in  the  changed  state  of  affairs,  must  be  devised  a  new  and 
untried  system  of  political  organization,  assimilated  in 
every  possible  respect  to  the  institutions  which  had 
formerly  existed.  It  is  true,  those  institutions  and  that 
form  of  government  had  been  designed  especially  to  pro 
mote  and  protect  the  interests  of  slavery  and  the  power 
of  caste.  But  they  believed  that  the  mere  fact  of  eman 
cipation  did  not  at  all  change  the  necessary  and  essential 
relations  between  the  various  classes  of  her  population, 
so  far  as  her  future  development  and  prosperity  were 
concerned. 

Therefore,  immediately  upon  the  "  redemption"  of 
these  states  from  the  enforced  and  sporadic  political 
ideas  of  the  reconstruction  era,  they  set  themselves  ear 
nestly  at  work  to  root  out  and  destroy  all  the  pernicious 
elements  of  the  township  system,  and  to  restore  that  or 
ganization  by  which  the  South  had  formerly  achieved 
power  and  .control  in  the  national  councils,  had  sup 
pressed  free  thought  and  free  speech,  had  degraded  la 
bor,  encouraged  ignorance,  and  established  aristocracy. 
The  first  step  in  this  measure  of  counter-revolution  and 
reform  was  to  take  from  the  inhabitants  of  the  township 
the  power  of  electing  the  officers,  and  to  greatly  curtail, 
where  they  did  not  destroy,  the  power  of  such  officers. 
It  had  been  observed  by  these  sagacious  statesmen  that 
in  not  a  few  instances  incapable  men  had  been  chosen  to 
administer  the  laws,  as  justices  of  the  peace  and  as 
trustees  of  the  various  townships.  Very  often,  no  doubt, 
it  happened  that  there  was  no  one  of  sufficient  capacity 
who  would  consent  to  act  in  such  positions  as  the  repre 
sentatives  of  the  majority.  Sometimes,  perhaps,  incompe- 


464  EKfCtCS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

tent  and  corrupt  men  had  sought  these  places  for  their 
own  advantage.  School  commissioners  may  have  been 
chosen  who  were  themselves  unable  to  read.  There 
may  have  been  township  trustees  who  had  never  yet 
shown  sufficient  enterprise  to  become  the  owners  of 
land,  and  legislators  whose  knowledge  of  law  had  been 
chiefly  gained  by  frequent  occupancy  of  the  prisoner's 
dock. 

Such  evils  were  not  to  be  endured  by  a  proud  people, 
accustomed  not  only  to  self-control,  but  to  the  control 
of  others.  They  did  not  stop  to  inquire  whether  there 
was  more  than  one  remedy  for  these  evils.  The  sys 
tem  itself  was  attainted  with  the  odor  of  Puritanism. 
It  was  communistic  in  its  character,  and  struck  at  the 
very  deepest  roots  of  the  social  and  political  organization 
which  had  previously  prevailed  at  the  South. 

So  it  was  changed.  From  and  after  that  date  it  was 
solemnly  enacted  that  either  the  Governor  of  the  State 
or  the  prevailing  party  in  the  Legislature  should  appoint 
all  the  justices  of  the  peace  in  and  for  the  various 
counties  ;  that  these  in  turn  should  appoint  in  each 
of  the  subdivisions  which  had  once  been  denonv- 
nated  townships,  or  which  had  been  clothed  with  the 
power  of  townships,  school  commissioners  and  trustees, 
judges  of  election  and  registrars  of  voters  ;  and  that 
in  the  various  counties  these  chosen  few,  or  the  State 
Executive  in  their  stead,  should  appoint  the  boards  of 
commissioners,  who  were  to  control  the  county  finances 
and  have  direction  of  all  municipal  affairs. 

Of  course,  in  this  counter-revolution  there  was  not 
any  idea  of  propagating  or  confirming  the  power  of  the 
political  party  instituting  it  !  It  was  done  simply  to  pro 
tect  the  State  against  incompetent  officials  !  The  peo 
ple  were  not  wise  enough  to  govern  themselves,  and 


A   S  WEE  T  A  ND  BI T  TER  FR  UI TA  GE.  465 

could  only  become  so  by  being  wisely  and  beneficently 
governed  by  others,  as  in  the  ante-bellum  era.  From  it, 
however,  by  a  curious  accident,  resulted  that  complete 
control  of  the  ballot  and  the  ballot-box  by  a  dominant 
minority  so  frequently  observed  in  those  states.  Observe 
that  the  Legislature  or  the  Executive  appointed  the  jus 
tices  of  the  peace  ;  they  in  turn  met  in  solemn  conclave, 
a  body  of  electors,  taken  wholly  or  in  a  great  majority 
from  the  same  party,  and  chose  the  commissioners  of  the 
county.  These,  again,  a  still  more  select  body  of  elec 
tors,  chose  with  the  utmost  care  the  trustees  of  the  town 
ships,  the  judges  of  election,  and  the  registrars  of  voters. 
So  that  the  utmost  care  was  taken  to  secure  entire 
harmony  throughout  the  state.  It  mattered  not  how 
great  the  majority  of  the  opposition  in  this  county  or  in 
that  ;  its  governing  officers  were  invariably  chosen  from 
the  body  of  the  minority. 

By  these  means  a  peculiar  safeguard  was  also  extend 
ed  to  the  ballot.  All  the  inspectors  throughout  the  state 
being  appointed  by  the  same  political  power,  were  care 
fully  chosen  to  secure  the  results  of  good  government. 
Either  all  or  a  majority  of  every  board  were  of  the  same 
political  complexion,  and,  if  need  be,  the  remaining 
members,  placed  there  in  order  that  there  should  be  no 
just  ground  of  complaint  upon  the  part  of  the  opposi 
tion,  were  unfitted  by  nature  or  education  for  the  per 
formance  of  their  duty.  If  not  blind,  they  were  usually 
profound  strangers  to  the  Cadmean  mystery.  Thus 
the  registration  of  voters  and  the  elections  were  care 
fully  devised  to  secure  for  all  time  the  beneficent  re 
sults  of  "  redemption."  It  was  found  to  be  a  very  easy 
matter  to  allow  the  freedman  to  indulge,  without  let 
or  hindrance,  his  wonderful  eagerness  for  the  exercise  of 
ballotorial  power,  without  injury  to  the  public  good, 


466  tffi/CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

From  and  after  that  time  elections  became  simply  a  harm 
less  amusement.  There  was  no  longer  any  need  of  vio 
lence.  The  peaceful  paths  of  legislation  were  found  much 
more  pleasant  and  agreeable,  as  well  as  less  obnoxious 
to  the  moral  feelings  of  that  portion  of  mankind  who 
were  so  unfortunate  as  to  dwell  without  the  boundaries 
of  these  states. 

In  order,  however,  to  secure  entire  immunity  from 
trouble  or  complaint,  it  was  in  many  instances  pro 
vided  that  the  ballots  should  be  destroyed  as  soon  as 
counted,  and  the  inspectors  were  sworn  to  execute  this 
law.  In  other  instances,  it  was  provided,  with  tender 
care  for  the  rights  of  the  citizen,  that  if  by  any 
chance  there  should  be  found  within  the  ballot-box 
at  the  close  of  an  election  any  excess  of  votes  over  and 
above  the  number  the  tally-sheet  should  show  to  have 
exercised  that  privilege  at  that  precinct,  instead  of  the 
whole  result  being  corrupted,  and  the  voice  of  the  peo 
ple  thereby  stifled,  one  member  of  the  board  of  inspect 
ors  should  be  blindfolded,  and  in  that  condition  should 
draw  from  the  box  so  many  ballots  as  were  in  excess 
of  the  number  of  voters,  and  that  the  result,  whatever  it 
might  be,  should  be  regarded  and  held  as  the  voice  of 
the  people.  By  this  means  formal  fraud  was  avoided, 
and  the  voice  of  the  people  declared  free  from  all  legal 
objection.  It  is  true  that  when  the  ticket  was  printed 
upon  very  thin  paper,  in  very  small  characters,  and  was 
very  closely  folded  and  the  box  duly  shaken,  the  smaller 
ballots  found  their  way  to  the  bottom,  while  the  larger  ones 
remained  upon  the  top  ;  so  that  the  blindfolded  inspector 
very  naturally  removed  these  and  allowed  the  tissue  bal 
lots  to  remain  and  be  counted.  It  is  true,  also,  that  the 
actual  will  of  the  majority  thus  voting  was  thus  not  un- 
frequently  overwhelmingly  negatived.  Yet  this  was  the 


COMING    TO    THE   FRONT.  467 

course  prescribed  by  the  law,  and  the  inspectors  of  elec 
tions  were  necessarily  guiltless  of  fraud. 

So  it  had  been  in  Horsford.  The  colored  majority 
had  voted  when  they  chose.  The  ballots  had  been  care 
fully  counted  and  the  result  scrupulously  ascertained  and 
declared.  Strangely  enough,  it  was  found  that,  what 
ever  the  number  of  votes  cast,  the  majorities  were 
quite  different  from  those  which  the  same  voters  had 
given  in  the  days  before  the  "  redemption,"  while  there 
did  not  seem  to  have  been  any  great  change  in  political 
sentiment.  Perhaps  half  a  dozen  colored  voters  in  the 
county  professed  allegiance  to  the  party  which  they  had 
formerly  opposed  ;  but  in  the  main  the  same  line  still 
separated  the  races.  It  was  all,  without  question,  the 
result  of  wise  and  patriotic  legislation  J 


CHAPTER   LVIII. 

COMING    TO    THE    FRONT. 

IN  an  evil  hour  Hesden  Le  Moyne  yielded  to  the 
solicitations  of  those  whom  he  had  befriended,  and 
whose  rights  he  honestly  believed  had  been  unlawfully 
subverted,  and  became  a  candidate  in  his  county.  It 
had  been  so  long  since  he  had  experienced  the  bitterness 
of  persecution  on  account  of  his  political  proclivities,  and 
the  social  relations  of  his  family  had  been  so  pleasant, 
that  he  had  "almost  forgotten  what  he  had  once  passed 
through  ;  or  rather,  he  had  come  to  believe  that  the  time 
had  gone  by  when  such  weapons  would  be  employed 
against  one  of  his  social  grade. 

The  years  of  silence  which  had  been  imposed  on  him 
by  a  desire  to  avoid  unnecessarily  distressing  his 


468  BRICKS    WITHOUT  STRAW. 

mother,  had  been  years  of  thought,  perhaps  the  richer 
and  riper  from  the  fact  that  he  had  refrained  from  ac 
tive  participation  in  political  life.  Like  all  his  class 
at  the  South,  he  was,  if  not  a  politician  by  instinct, 
at  least  familiar  from  early  boyhood  with  the  subtle 
discussion  of  political  subjects  which  is  ever  heard  at 
the  table  and  the  fireside  of  the  Southern  gentleman.' 
He  had  regarded  the  experiment  of  reconstruction,  as 
he  believed,  with  calm,  unprejudiced  sincerity  ;  he  had 
buried  the  past,  and  looked  only  to  the  future.  It  was 
not  for  his  own  sake  or  interest  that  he  became  a  can 
didate  ;  he  was  content  always  to  be  what  he  was — a  quiet 
country  gentleman.  He  loved  his  home  and  his  planta 
tion  ;  he  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  pursuits  of  agriculture, 
and  had  no  desire  to  be  or  do  any  great  thing.  His 
mother's  long  illness  had  given  him  a  love  for  a  quiet  life, 
his  books  and  his  fireside  ;  and  it  was  only  because  he 
thought  that  he  could  do  something  to  reconcile  the  jarring 
factions  and  bring  harmony  out  of  discord,  and  lead  his 
people  to  see  that  The  Nation  was  greater  and  better  than 
The  South  ;  that  its  interests  and  prosperity  were  also 
their  interest,  their  prosperity,  and  their  hope — that 
Hesden  Le  Moyne  consented  to  forego  the  pleasant  life 
which  he  was  leading  arid  undertake  a  brief  voyage  upon 
the  stormy  sea  of  politics. 

He  did  not  expect  that  all  would  agree  with  him,  but 
he  believed  that  they  would  listen  to  him  without  preju 
dice  and  without  anger.  And  he  so  fully  believed  in  the 
conclusions  he  had  arrived  at  that  he  thought  no  reason 
able  man  could  resist  their  force  or  avoid  reaching  a  like 
result.  His  platform,  as  he  called  it,  when  he  came  to 
announce  himself  as  a  candidate  at  the  Court  House  on 
the  second  day  of  the  term  of  court,  in  accordance  with 
immemorial  custom  in  that  county,  was  simply  one  of 


COMING    TO   THE  FRONT.  469 

plain  common-sense.  He  was  not  an  office-holder  or  a 
politician.  He  did  not  come  of  an  office-holding  family, 
nor  did  he  seek  position  or  emolument.  He  offered  him 
self  for  the  suffrages  of  his  fellow-citizens  simply  because 
no  other  man  among  them  seemed  willing  to  stand  forth 
and  advocate  those  principles  which  he  believed  to  be 
right,  expedient,  and  patriotic. 

He  was  a  white  man,  he  said,  and  had  the  prejudices 
and  feelings  that  were  common  to  the  white  people  of 
the  South.  He  had  not  believed  in  the  right  or  the  pol 
icy  of  secession,  in  which  he  differed  from  some  of  his 
neighbors  ;  but  when  it  came  to  the  decision  of  that 
question  by  force  of  arms  he  had  yielded  his  conviction 
and  stood  side  by  side  upon  the  field  of  battle  with  the 
fiercest  fire-eaters  of  the  land.  No  man  could  accuse  him 
of  being  remiss  in  any  duty  which  he  owed  his  State  or 
section.  But  all  that  he  insisted  was  past.  There  was 
no  longer  any  distinct  sectional  interest  or  principle  to  be 
maintained.  The  sword  had  decided  that,  whether  right 
or  wrong  as  an  abstraction,  the  doctrine  of  secession 
should  never  be  practically  asserted  in  the  government. 
The  result  of  the  struggle  had  been  to  establish,  beyond  a 
peradventure,  what  had  before  been  an  unsettled  ques 
tion  :  that  the  Nation  had  the  power  and  the  will  to 
protect  itself  against  any  disintegrating  movement.  It 
might  not  have  decided  what  was  the  meaning  of  the 
Constitution,  and  so  not  determined  upon  which  side  of 
this  question  lay  the  better  reasoning  ;  but  it  had  settled 
the  practical  fact.  This  decision  he  accepted  ;  he  be 
lieved  that  they  all  accepted  it — with  only  this  difference, 
perhaps,  that  he  believed  it  rendered  necessary  a  change 
in  many  of  the  previous  convictions  of  the  Southern  peo 
ple.  They  had  been  accustomed  to  call  themselves  South 
ern  men  ;  after  that,  Americans.  Hereafter  it  became 


47°  SXJCKS   WITHOUT   STRAW. 

their  duty  and  their  interest  to  be  no  longer  Southern 
men,  but  Americans  only. 

"  Having  these  views,"  he  continued,  "  it  is  my  sin 
cere  conviction  that  we  ought  to  accept,  in  spirit  as  well 
as  in  form,  the  results  of  this  struggle  ;  not  ir.  part,  but 
fully."  The  first  result  had  been  the  freeing  in  the  slave. 
In  the  main  he  believed  that  had  been  accepted,  if 
not  cheerfully,  at  least  finally.  The  next  had  been  the 
enfranchisement  of  the  colored  man.  This  he  insisted 
had  not  been  honestly  accepted  by  the  mass  of  the 
white  people  of  the  South.  Every  means,  lawful  and 
unlawful,  had  been  resorted  to  to  prevent  the  due 
operation  of  these  laws.  He  did  not  speak  of  this 
in  anger  or  to  blame.  Knowing  their  prejudices  and 
feelings,  he  could  well  excuse  what  had  been  done  ; 
but  he  insisted  that  it  was  not,  and  could  not  be,  the  part 
of  an  honest,  brave  and  intelligent  people  to  nullify  or 
evade  any  portion  of  the  law  of  the  land.  He  did  not 
mean  that  it  was  the  duty  of  any  man  to  submit  without 
opposition  to  a  law  which  he  believed  to  be  wrong  ;  but 
that  opposition  should  never  be  manifested  by  unlawful 
violence,  unmanly  evasion,  or  cowardly  fraud. 

He  realized  that,  at  first,  anger  might  over-bear  both 
patriotism  and  honor,  under  the  sting  of  what  was  re 
garded  as  unparalleled  wrong,  insult,  and  outrage  ;  but 
there  had  been  time  enough  for  anger  to  cool,  and  for 
his  people  to  look  with  calmness  to  the  future  that  lay 
before,  and  let  its  hopes  and  duties  overbalance  the  dis 
appointments  of  the  past.  He  freely  admitted  that  had 
the  question  of  reconstruction  been  submitted  to  him  for 
determination,  he  would  not  have  adopted  the  plan  which 
had  prevailed  ;  but  since  it  had  been  adopted  and  be 
come  an  integral  part  of  the  law  of  the  land,  he  believed 
that  whoever  sought  to  evade  its  fair  and  unhindered 


COMIXG   TO   THE  FRONT.  47  * 

operation  placed  himself  in  the  position  of  a  law-breaker. 
They  had  the  right,  undoubtedly,  by  fair  and  open 
opposition  to  defeat  any  party,  and  to  secure  the  amend 
ment  or  repeal  of  any  law  or  system  of  laws.  But  they 
had  no  right  to  resist  law  with  violence,  or  to  evade 
law  by  fraud. 

The  right  of  the  colored  man  to  exercise  freely  and 
openly  his  elective  franchise,  without  threat,  intimida 
tion,  or  fear,  was  the  same  as  that  of  the  whitest  man 
he  addressed  ;  and  the  violation  of  that  right,  or 
the  deprivation  of  that  privilege,  was,  really  an  assault 
upon  the  right  and  liberty  of  the  white  voter  also. 
No  rights  were  safe  unless  the  people  had  that  regard 
for  law  which  would  secure  to  the  weakest  and  the  hum 
blest  citizen  the  free  and  untramrneled  enjoyment  and 
exercise  of  every  privilege  which  the  law  conferred. 
He  characterized  the  laws  that  had  been  enacted  in 
regard  to  the  conduct  of  elections  and  the  selection  of 
local  officers  as  unmanly  and  shuffling — an  assertion 
of  the  right  to  nullify  national  law  by  fraud,  which 
the  South  had  failed  to  maintain  by  the  sword,  and  had 
by  her  surrender  virtually  acknowledged  herself  in  honor 
bound  to  abandon. 

He  did  not  believe,  he  would  not  believe,  that  his 
countrymen  of  the  South,  his  white  fellow-citizens  of  the 
good  old  county  of  Horsford,  had  fairly  and  honestly 
considered  the  position  in  which  recent  events  and  leg 
islation  had  placed  them,  not  only  before  the  eyes  of  the 
country,  but  of  the  civilized  world.  It  had  alway? 
been  claimed,  he  said,  that  a  white  man  is  by  nature, 
and  not  merely  by  the  adventitious  circumstances  of  the 
past,  innately  and  inherently,  and  he  would  almost  add 
infinitely,  the  superior  of  the  colored  man.  In  intellect 
ual  culture,  experience,  habits  of  self-government  and 


47 2  BRICKS   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

command,  this  was  unquestionably  true.  Whether  it 
were  true  as  a  natural  and  scientific  fact  was,  perhaps, 
yet  to  be  decided.  Bat  could  it  be  possible  that  a 
people,  a  race  priding  itself  upon  its  superiority,  should 
be  unwilling  or  afraid  to  see  the  experiment  fairly  tried  ? 
'  Have  we, ' '  he  asked,  ' '  so  little  confidence  in  our  moral 
and  intellectual  superiority  that  we  dare  not  give  the  col 
ored  man  an  equal  right  with  us  to  exercise  the  privilege 
which  the  Nation  has  conferred  upon  him  ?  Are  the 
white  people  of  the  South  so  poor  in  intellectual  re 
sources  that  they  must  resort  to  fraud  or  open  violence 
to  defeat  the  ignorant  and  weak  colored  man  of  even  the 
least  of  his  law-given  rights  ? 

"  We  claim,"  he  continued,  "  that  he  is  ignorant.  It 
is  true.  Are  we  afraid  that  he  will  grow  wiser  than  we  ? 
We  claim  that  he  has  not  the  capacity  to  acquire  or 
receive  a  like  intellectual  development  with  ourselves. 
Are  we  afraid  to  give  him  a  chance  to  do  so  ?  Could  not  in 
telligence  cope  with  ignorance  without  fraud  ?  Boasting 
that  we  could  outrun  our  adversary,  would  we  hamstring 
him  at  the  starting-post  ?  It  was  accounted  by  ail  men, 
in  all  ages,  an  unmanly  thing  to  steal,  and  a  yet  more 
unmanly  thing  to  steal  from  the  weak  ;  so  that  it  has 
passed  into  a  proverb,  '  Only  a  dog  would  steal  the 
blind  man's  dinner.'  And  yet,"  he  said,  "  we  are  will 
ing  to  steal  the  vote  of  the  ignorant,  the  blind,  the 
helpless  colored  man  !" 

It  was  not  for  the  sake  of  the  colored  man,  he  said  in 
conclusion,  that  he  appealed  to  them  to  pause  and  think. 
It  was  because  the  honor,  the  nobility,  the  intelligence 
of  the  white  man  was  being  degraded  by  the  course  which 
passion  and  resentment,  and  not  reason  or  patriotism, 
had  dictated.  He  appealed  to  his  hearers  as  white  men^ 
not  so  much  to  give  to  the  colored  man  the  right  to  express 


COMING  TO   THE  FRONT.  473 

his  sentiments  at  the  ballot-box,  as  to  regard  that 
right  as  sacred  because  it  rested  upon  the  law,  which 
constituted  the  foundation  and  safeguard  of  their  own 
rights.  He  would  not  appeal  to  them  as  Southern  men, 
for  he  hoped  the  day  was  at  hand  when  there  would  no 
more  be  any  such  distinction.  But  he  would  appeal  to 
them  as  men — honest  men,  honorable  men — and  as  Amer 
ican  citizens,  to  honor  the  law  and  thereby  honor  them 
selves. 

It  had  been  said  that  the  best  and  surest  way  to  secure 
the  repeal  of  a  bad  law  was  first  to  secure  its  unhindered 
operation.  Especially  was  this  true  of  a  people  who  had 
boasted  of  unparalleled  devotion  to  principle,  of  un 
bounded  honor,  and  of  the  highest  chivalry.  How  one 
of  them,  or  all  of  them,  could  claim  any  of  these  attri 
butes  of  which  they  had  so  long  boasted,  and  yet  be 
privy  to  depriving  even  a  single  colored  man  of  the  right 
which  the  Nation  had  given  him,  or  to  making  the  exer 
cise  of  that  right  a  mockery,  he  could  not  conceive  ; 
and  he  would  not  believe  that  they  would  do  it  when 
once  the  scales  of  prejudice  and  resentment  had  fallen 
from  their  eyes.  If  they  had  been  wronged  and  outraged 
as  a  people,  their  only  fit  revenge  was  to  display  a  man 
hood  and  a  magnanimity  which  should  attest  the  superi 
ority  upon  which  they  prided  themselves. 

This  address  was  received  by  his  white  hearers  with 
surprised  silence  ;  by  the  colored  men  with  half-appreci 
ative  cheers.  They  recognized  that  the  speaker  was 
their  friend,  and  in  favor  of  their  being  allowed  the  free 
exercise  of  the  rights  of  citizenship.  His  white  auditors 
saw  that  he  was  assailing  with  some  bitterness  and  ear 
nest  indignation  both  their  conduct  and  what  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  term  their  principles.  There  was 


471  JiA'/CA'S   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

no  immediate  display  of  hostility  or  anger  ;  and  Hesden 
Le  Moyne  returned  to  his  home  full  cf  hope  that  the 
time  was  at  hand  for  which  he  had  so  long  yearned,  when 
the  people  of  his  native  South  should  abandon  the  career 
of  prejudice  and  violence  into  which  they  had  been  be 
trayed  by  resentment  and  passion. 

Early  the  next  morning  some  of  his  friends  waited 
upon  him  and  adjured  him,  for  his  own  sake,  for  the  sake 
of  his  family  and  friends,  to  withdraw  from  the  canvass. 
This  he  refused  to  do.  He  said  that  what  he  advocated 
was  the  result  cf  earnest  conviction,  and  he  should 
always  despise  himself  should  he  abandon  the  course  he 
had  calmly  decided  to  take.  Whatever  the  result,  he 
would  continue  to  the  end.  Then  they  cautiously  inti 
mated  to  him  that  his  course  was  fraught  with  personal 
danger.  "  What  !"  he  cried,  "  do  you  expect  me  to  flinch 
at  the  thought  of  danger  ?  I  offered  my  life  and  gave  an 
arm  for  a  cause  in  which  I  did  not  believe  ;  shall  I  not 
brave  as  much  in  the  endeavor  to  serve  my  country  in  a 
manner  which  my  mind  and  conscience  approve  ?  I  seek 
for  difficulty  with  no  one  ;  but  it  may  as  well  be  under 
stood  that  Hesden  Le  Moyne  does  not  turn  in  his  tracks 
because  of  any  man's  anger.  I  say  to  you  plainly  that  I 
shall  neither  offer  personal  insult  nor  submit  to  it  in  this 
canvass." 

His  friends  left  him  with  heavy  hearts,  for  they  fore 
boded  ill.  It  was  not  many  days  before  he  found  that 
the  storm  of  detraction  and  contumely  through  which  he 
had  once  passed  was  but  a  gentle  shower  compared  with 
the  tornado  which  now  came  down  upon  his  head.  The 
newspapers  overflowed  with  threat,  denunciation,  and 
abuse.  One  of  them  declared  : 

"  The  man  who  thinks  that  he  can  lead  an  opposition  against  the 
organized  Democracy  of  Horsford  County  is  not  only  very  pre- 


COMING  TO   THE  FRONT.  475 

sumptuous,  but  extremely  bold.  Such  a  man  will  require  a  body 
guard  of  Democrats  in  his  canvass  and  a  Gibraltar  in  his  rear  on 
the  day  of  the  election." 

Another  said  : 

"The  Radical  candidate  would  do  well  to  take  advice.  The 
white  men1  of  the  State  desire  a  peaceful  summer  and  autumn. 
They  are  wearied  of  heated  political  strife.  If  they  are  forced  to 
vigorous  action  it  will  be  exceedingly  vigorous,  perhaps  unpleas 
antly  so.  Those  who  cause  the  trouble  will  suffer  most  from  it. 
Bear  that  in  mind,  persons  colored  and  white-skinned.  We  reit 
erate  our  advice  to  the  reflective  and  argumentative  Radical 
leader,  to  be  careful  how  he  goes,  and  not  stir  up  the  animals 
too  freely  ;  they  have  teeth  and  claws." 

Still  another  said  : 

"  Will  our  people  suffer  a  covert  danger  to  rankle  in  their  midst 
until  it  gains  strength  to  burst  into  an  open  enemy  ?  Will  they 
tamely  submit  while  Hesden  Le  Moyne  rallies  the  colored  men  to 
his  standard  and  hands  over  Horsford  to  the  enemy  ?  Will  they 
stand  idly  and  supinely,  and  witness  the  consummation  of  such  an 
infamous  conspiracy  ?  No  !  a  thousand  times,  No  !  Awake  ! 
stir  up  your  clubs  ;  let  the  shout  go  up  ;  put  on  your  red  shirts 
and  let  the  ride  begin.  Let  the  young  men  take  the  van,  or  we 
shall  be  sold  into  political  slavery." 

Another  sounded  the  key-note  of  hostility  in  these 
words  : 

"  Every  white  man  who  dares  to  avow  himself  a  Radical  should 
be  promptly  branded  as  the  bitter  and  malignant  enemy  of  the 
South  ;  every  man  who  presumes  to  aspire  to  office  through  Re 
publican  votes  should  be  saturated  with  stench.  As  for  the 
negroes,  let  them  amuse  themselves,  if  they  will,  by  voting  the 
Radical  ticket.  We  have  the  count.  We  have  a  thousand  good 
and  true  men  in  Horsford  whose  brave  ballots  will  be  found  equ"' 
to  those  of  five  thousand  vile  Radicals." 

One  of  his  opponents,  in  a  most  virulent  speech,  called 
attention  to  the  example  of  a  celebrated  Confederate  gen 
eral.  "  He,  too,"  said  the  impassioned  orator,  "  served 


47 6  BXICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

the  Confederacy  as  bravely  as  Hesden  Le  Moyne,  and 
far  more  ably.  But  he  became  impregnated  with  the 
virus  of  Radicalism  ;  he  abandoned  and  betrayed  the 
cause  for  which  he  fought  ;  he  deserted  the  Southern  peo 
ple  in  the  hour  of  need  and  joined  their  enemies.  He  was 
begged  and  implored  not  to  persevere  in  his  course,  but 
he  drifted  on  and  on,  and  floundered  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  mire,  until  he  landed  fast  in  the  slough  where 
he  sticks  to-day.  And  what  has  he  gained  ?  Scorn, 
ostracism,  odium,  ill-will — worse  than  all,  the  contempt 
of  the  men  who  stood  by  him  in  the  shower  of  death  and 
destruction.  Let  Hesden  Le  Moyne  take  warning  by 
his  example." 

And  so  it  went  on,  day  after  day.  Personal  affront 
was  studiously  avoided,  but  in  general  terms  he  was  held 
up  to  the  scorn  and  contempt  of  all  honest  men  as  a 
renegade  and  a  traitor.  Those  who  had  seemed  his 
friends  fell  away  from  him  ;  the  home  which  had  been 
crowded  with  pleasant  associates  was  desolate,  or  fre 
quented  only  by  those  who  came  to  remonstrate  or  to 
threaten.  He  saw  his  mistake,  but  he  knew  that  anger 
was  worse  than  useless.  He  did  not  seek  to  enrage,  but 
to  convince.  Failing  in  this,  he  simply  performed  the 
duty  which  he  had  undertaken,  as  he  said  he  would  do 
it — fearlessly,  openly,  and  faithfully. 

The  election  came,  and  the  result — was  what  he 
should  have  been  wise  enough  to  foresee.  Nevertheless, 
it  was  a  great  and  grievous  disappointment  to  Hesden 
Le  Moyne.  Not  that  he  cared  about  a  seat  in  the  Legis 
lature  ;  but  it  was  a  demonstration  to  him  that  in  his  es 
timate  of  the  people  of  whom  he  had  been  so  proud  he 
had  erred  upon  the  side  of  charity.  He  had  believed 
them  better  than  they  had  shown  themselves.  The  fair 
future  which  he  had  hoped  was  so  near  at  hand  seemed 


THE  SHUTTLECOCK  OF  FATE.  477 

more  remote  than  ever.  His  hope  for  his  people  and 
his  State  was  crushed,  and  apprehension  of  unspeak 
able  evil  in  the  future  forced  itself  upon  his  heart. 


CHAPTER    LIX. 

THE    SHUTTLECOCK    OF    FATE. 

"  MARSE  HESDEN,  Marse  Hesden  !"  There  was  a 
timorous  rap  upon  the  window  of  Hesden  Le  Moyne's 
sleeping-room  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and,  waking, 
he  heard  his  name  called  in  a  low,  cautious  voice. 

"Who  is  there?"  he  asked. 

"  Sh— sh  !  Don't  talk  so  loud,  Marse  Hesden. 
Please  come  out  h'yer  a  minnit,  won't  yer  ?" 

The  voice  was  evidently  that  of  a  colored  man,  and 
Hesden  had  no  apprehension  or  hesitancy  in  complying 
with  the  request.  In  fact,  his  position  as  a  recognized 
friend  of  the  colored  race  had  made  such  appeals  to  his 
kindness  and  protection  by  no  means  unusual.  He  rose 
at  once,  and  stepped  out  upon  the  porch.  He  was  absent 
for  a  little  while,  and  when  he  returned  his  voice  was 
full  of  emotion  as  he  said  to  his  wife, 

"  Mollie,  there  is  a  man  here  who  is  hungry  and  weary. 
I  do  not  wish  the  servants  to  know  of  his  presence.  Can 
you  get  him  something  to  eat  without  making  any  stir  ?" 

"  Why,  what — "  began  Mollie. 

"  It  will  be  best  not  to  stop  for  any  questions,"  said 
Hesden  hurriedly,  as  he  lighted  a  lamp  and,  pouring 
some  liquor  into  a  glass,  started  to  return.  "  Get  what 
ever  you  can  at  once,  and  bring  it  to  the  room  above.  I 
will  go  and  make  up  a  fire." 


47 8  BKICA'S   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Mollie  rose,  and,  throwing  on  a  wrapper,  proceeded  to 
comply  with  her  husband's  request.  But  a  few  moments 
had  elapsed  when  she  went  up  the  stairs  bearing  a  well- 
laden  tray.  Her  slippered  feet  made  no  noise,  and  when 
she  reached  the  chamber-door  she  saw  her  husband 
kneeling  before  the  fire,  which  was  just  beginning  to  burn 
brightly.  The  liglit  shone  also  upon  a  colored  man  of 
powerful  frame  who  sat  upon  a  chair  a  little  way  back,  his 
hat  upon  the  floor  beside  him,  his  gray  head  inclined  upon 
his  breast,  and  his  whole  attitude  indicating  exhaustion. 

11  Here  it  is,  Hesden,"  she  said  quietly,  as  she  stepped 
into  the  room. 

The  colored  man  raised  his  head  wearily  as  she  spoke, 
and  turned  toward  her  a  gaunt  face  half  hidden  by  a 
gray,  scraggly  beard.  No  sooner  did  his  eyes  rest  upon 
her  than  they  opened  wide  in  amazement.  He  sprang 
from  his  chair,  put  his  hand  to  his  head,  as  if  to  assure 
himself  that  he  was  not  dreaming,  and  said, 

"  What  ! — yer  ain't — 'fore  God  it  must  be — Miss 
Mollie!" 

"  Oh,  Nimbus  !"  cried  Mollie,  with  a  shriek.  Her 
face  was  pale  as  ashes,  and  she  would  have  fallen  had 
not  Hesden  sprang  to  her  side  and  supported  her  with 
his  arm,  while  he  said, 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  You  must  not  speak  so  loud.  I  did 
not  expect  you  so  soon  or  I  would  have  told  you." 

The  colored  man  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  gazed  in 
wonder  on  the  scene. 

"  Oh,  Marse  Hesden  !"  he  cried,  "  is  it— can  it  be 
our  Miss  Mollie,  or  has  Nimbus  gone  clean  crazy  wid  de 
rest  ob  his  misfortins  ?" 

"  No,  indeed  !"  said  Hesden.  "  It  is  really  Miss  Mollie, 
only  I  have  stolen  her  away  from  her  old  friends  and 
made  her  mine." 


THE  SHUTTLECOCK  OF  FATE.  479 

"  There  is  no  mistake  about  it,  Nimbus,"  said  Mollie, 
as  she  extended  her  hand,  which  the  colored  man  clasped 
in  both  his  own  and  covered  with  tears  and  kisses,  while 
he  said,  between  his  sobs, 

"  T'ank  God  !  T'ank  God  !  Nimbus  don't  keer 
now  !  He  ain't  afeared  ob  nuffin'  no  mo',  now  he's  seen 
de  little  angel  dat  use  ter  watch  ober  him,  an'  dat  he's 
been  a-dreamin'  on  all  dese  yeahs  !  Bress  God,  she's 
alive  !  Dar  ain't  no  need  ter  ax  fer  'Gena  ner  de  little 
ones  now  ;  I  knows  dey's  all  right  !  Miss  Mollie's  done 
tuk  keer  o'  dem,  else  she  wouldn't  be  h'yer  now.  Bress 
de  Lord,  I  sees  de  deah  little  lamb  once  mo'." 

'  There,  there  !"  said  Mollie  gently.  "  You  must  not 
talk  any  more  now.  I  have  brought  you  something  to 
eat.  You  are  tired  and  hungry.  You  must  eat  now. 
Everything  is  all  right.  'Gena  and  the  children  are 
well,  and  have  been  looking  for  you  every  day  since  you 
went  away." 

"  Bress  God  !  Bress  God  !  I  don't  want  nuffin'  mo'  !" 
said  Nimbus.  He  would  have  gone  on,  in  a  wild  rhapsody 
of  delight,  but  both  Hesden  and  Mollie  interposed  and 
compelled  him  to  desist  and  eat.  Ah  !  it  was  a  royal 
meal  that  the  poor  fugitive  had  spread  before  him. 
Mollie  brought  some  milk.  A  coffee-pot  was  placed 
upon  the  fire,  and  while  he  ate  they  toM  him  of  some  of 
the  changes  that  had  taken  place.  When  at  length  Hes 
den  took  him  into  the  room  where  Eliab  had  remained 
concealed  so  long,  and  closed  the  door  and  locked  it  upon 
him,  they  could  still  hear  the  low  tones  of  thankful  prayer 
coming  from  within.  Hesden  knocked  upon  the  door 
to  enjoin  silence,  and  they  returned  to  their  room,  won 
dering  at  the  Providence  which  had  justified  the  faith  of 
the  long-widowed  colored  wife. 

The  next  day  Hesden  went  to  the  Court  House  to  ascer- 


480  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

tain  what  charges  there  were  against  Nimbus.  He  found 
there  were  none.  The  old  prosecution  for  seducing  the 
laborers  of  Mr.  Sykes  had  long  ago  been  discontinued. 
Strangely  enough,  no  others  had  been  instituted  against 
him.  For  some  reason  the  law  had  not  been  appealed  to 
to  avenge  the  injuries  of  the  marauders  who  had  devas 
tated  Red  Wing.  On  his  return,  Hesden  came  by  way 
of  Red  Wing  and  brought  Eliab  home  with  him. 

The  meeting  between  the  two  old  friends  was  very 
affecting.  Since  the  disappearance  of  Nimbus,  Eliab 
had  grown  more  self-reliant.  His  two  years  and  more  of 
attendance  at  a  Northern  school  had  widened  and  deep 
ened  his  manhood  as  well  as  increased  his  knowledge, 
and  the  charge  of  the  school  at  Red  Wing  had  completed 
the  work  there  begun.  His  self-consciousness  had  di 
minished,  and  it  no  longer  required  the  spur  of  intense 
excitement  to  make  him  forget  his  affliction.  His  last 
injuries  had  made  him  even  more  helpless,  when  separated 
from  his  rolling-chair,  but  his  life  had  been  too  full  to 
enable  him  to  dwell  upon  his  weakness  so  constantly  as 
formerly. 

In  Nimbus  there  was  a  change  even  more  appar 
ent.  Gray  hairs,  a  bowed  form,  a  furrowed  face,  and 
that  sort  of  furtive  wildness  which  characterizes  the  man 
long  hunted  by  his  enemies,  had  taken  the  place  of  his 
former  unfearing,  bull-fronted  ruggedness.  His  spirit 
was  broken.  He  no  longer  looked  to  the  future  with 
abounding  hope,  careless  of  its  dangers. 

"  Yer's  growed  away  from  me,  Bre'er  'Liab,"  he  said 
at  length,  when  they  had  held  each  other's  hands  and 
looked  into  each  other's  faces  for  a  long  time.  "  Yer 
wouldn't  know  how  ter  take  a  holt  o*  Nimbus  ter  hev 
him  tote  yer  roun',  now.  Yer's  growed  away  from  him 
—clean  away, ' '  he  added  sadly. 


THE  SHUTTLECOCK  OF  FATE.  481 

1  You,  too,  have  changed,  Brother  Nimbus,"  said 
Eliab  soothingly. 

'  Yes,  I'se  changed,  oh  co'se  ;  but  not  as  you  hez, 
Bre'er  'Liab.  Dis  h'ycr  ole  shell  hez  changed.  Nim 
bus  couldn't  tote  yeri'oun'  like  he  used.  I'se  bed  a  hard 
time — a  hard  time,  'Liab,  an'  I  ain't  nuffin'  like  de  man 
I  used  ter  be  ;  but  I  hain't  changed  inside  like  you  hez. 
I'se  jes  de  same  ole  Nimbus  dat  I  allus  wuz — jes  de 
same,  only  kinder  broke  down  insperrit,  Bre'er  'Liab.  I 
hain't  gro\ved  ez  you  hev.  I  hain't  no  mo'  man  dan  I 
was  den — not  so  much,  in  fac'.  I  don't  keer  now  no 
mo'  'bout  what's  a-gwine  ter  be.  I'se  an'  ole  man, 
'Liab — an'  cle  man,  ef  I  is  young." 

That  night  he  told  his  story  to  a  breathless  auditory. 

;<  Yes,  Bre'er  'Liab,  dar's  a  heap  o'  t'ings  happened 
sence  dat  ar  mornin'  I  lef  you  h'ycr  wid  Marse  Ilesden. 
Yer  see,  I  went  back  fust  whar  I'd  lef  Berry,  an'  we 
tuk  an'  druv  de  mule  an'  carry-all  inter  a  big  pine 
thicket,  down  by  de  ribber,  an'  dar  we  stays  all  day 
mighty  close  ;  only  once,  when  I  went  out  by  de  road 
an'  sees  Miss  Mollie  ridin'  by.  I  calls  out  to  her  jest  ez 
loud  ez  I  dared  to  ;  but,  lasakes  !  she  didn't  h'year  me." 

"  Was  that  you,  Nimbus  ?"  asked  Mollie,  turning  from 
a  bright-eyed  successor  to  little  Hildreth,  whom  she  had 
been  proudly  caressing.  "  I  thought  I  heard  some  one 
call  me,  but  did  not  think  of  its  being  you.  I  am  so 
sorry  !  I  stopped  and  looked,  but  could  see  nothing." 

"  No,  you  didn't  see  me,  Miss  Mollie,  but  it  done  me 
a  power  o'  good  ter  seejw/.  I  knowed  yer  was  gwine 
ter  Red  Wing,  an'  yer'd  take  keer  on  an'  advise  dem  ez 
wuz  left  dar.  Wai,  dat  night  we  went  back  an'  got  the 
'backer  out  o'  de  barn.  I  tuk  a  look  roun'  de  house,  an' 
went  ter  de  smoke-house,  an'  got  a  ham  of  meat  an' 
some  other  t'ings.  I  'llowed  dat  'Gena'd  know  I'd 


482  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

been  dar,  but  didn't  dare  ter  say  nuffin'  tcr  nobody,  fer 
fear  de  sheriff's  folks  mout  be  a  watcbin'  roun'.  I 
'llowed  dey'd  hev  out  a  warrant  for  me,  an'  p'raps  fer 
Berry  too,  on  account  o'  what  we'd  done  de  night  afo'." 

"  They  never  did,"  said  Hesden. 
4  Yer  don't  tell  me  !"  exclaimed  Nimbus,  in  surprise. 

"  No.  There  has  never  been  any  criminal  process 
against  you,  except  for  enticing  Berry  away  from  old 
Granville  Sykes, "  said  Hesden. 

"  Wai,"   responded  Nimbus,  "  t'was  all  de  same.     I 
t'ought  dey  would.     De  udder  wuz  'nough,  dough.    Ef 
dey  could  once    cotch  me  on  dat,   I  reckon  dey  could  . 
hev  hung  me  fer  nuffin',  fer  dat  matter." 

"  It  was  a  very  wise  thing  in  you  to  leave  the  coun 
try,"  said  Hesden.  '  There  is  no  doubt  of  that." 

'  T'ank  ye,  Marse  Hesden,  t'ank  ye,"  said  Nimbus. 
"  I'se  glad  ter  know  I  hain't  been  a  fool  allus,  ef  I  is 
now.  But  now  I  t'inks  on't,  Marse  Hesden,  I'd  like 
ter  know  what  come  of  dem  men  dat  'Gena  an'  me  put 
our  marks  on  dat  night." 

"  One  of  them  died  a  year  or  two  afterward — was 
never  well  after  that  night — and  the  other  is  here,  alive 
and  well,  with  a  queer  seam  down  the  middle  of  his 
face,"  said  Hesden. 

"Died,  yer  say?"  said  Nimbus.  "Wai,  I'se  right 
sorry,  but  he  lived  a  heap  longer  nor  Bre'er  'Liab  would, 
ef  I  hadn't  come  in  jest  about  dat  time." 

Yes,  indeed,"  said  Eliab,  as  he  extended  his  hand 
to  his  old  friend. 

4  Wai,"  continued  Nimbus,  4<  we  went  on  ter  Wells- 
boro,  an'  dar  we  sold  de  'backer.  Den  we  kinder  divided 
up.  I  tuk  most  o'  de  money  an'  went  on  South,  an'  Berry 
tuk  de  mule  an'  carry-all  an'  started  fer  his  home  in 
Hanson  County.  I  tuk  de  cars  an'  went  on,  a-stoppin* 


THE  SHUTTLECOCK  OF  FATE.  43 

at  one  place  an'  anodder,  an'  awukkin'  a  little  h'yer  an' 
dar,  but  jest  a-'spectin'  ebbery  minnit  ter  be  gobbled  up 
by  a  officer  an'  brought  back  h'yer.  I'd  heard  dat  Texas 
wuz  a  good  place  fer  dem  ter  go  ter  dat  didn't  want 
nobody  ter  find  'em  ;  so  I  sot  out  ter  go  dar.  When  I  got 
ez  fur  ez  Fairfax,  in  Louisiana,  I  was  tuk  down  wid  de 
fever,  an'  fer  nigh  'bout  six  month  I  wa'ant  ob  no  ac 
count  whatebber.  An'  who  yer  tink  tukkeer  ob  me  den, 
Marse  Hesden  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  1  don't  know,"  was  the  reply. 

"No,  yer  wouldn't  nebber  guess,"  said  Nimbus; 
"  but  twa'n't  nobody  else  but  my  old  mammy, 
Lorency. " 

4  You    don't    say  !       Well,  that    was    strange,"    said 
Hesden. 

11  It  was  quare,  Marse  Hesden.  She  was  gittin'  on 
to  be  a  old  woman  den.  She's  dead  sence.  Yer  see, 
she  knowed  me  by  my  name,  an'  she  tuk  keer  on  me,  else 
I'd  nebber  been  here  ter  tell  on't.  Atter  I  got  better  like, 
she  sorter  persuaded  me  ter  stay  dar.  I  wuz  powerful 
homesick,  an'  wanted  ter  h'year  from  'Gena  an'  de  chillen, 
an'  ef  I'd  hed  irnney  'nough  left,  I'd  a  corns  straight 
back  h'yer  ;  but  what  with  travellin'  an'  doctors'  bills,  an' 
de  like,  I  hadn't  nary  cent.  Den  I  couldn't  leave  my 
ole  mammy,  nuther.  She'd  hed  a  hard  time  sence  de 
wah,  a-wukkin'  fer  herself  all  alone,  an'  I  wuz  boun'  tei" 
help  her  all  I  could.  I  got  a  man  to  write  ter  Miss 
Mollie  ;  but  de  letter  come  back  sayin'  she  wa'n't  h'yer  . 
no  mo'.  Den  I  got  him  to  write  ter  whar  she'd  been 
afo'  she  come  South  ;  but  that  come  back  too." 

"  Why  did  you  not  write  to  me  ?"  said  Hesden. 

"  Wai,"  said  Nimbus,  wii;h  some  confusion,  "  I  wuz 
afeared  ter  do  it,  Marse  Hesden,  I  wuz  afeared  yer 
mout  hev  turned  agin  me.  I  dunno  why  'twuz,  but  I 


484  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

wuz  mighty  skeered  ob  enny  white  folks,  'ccptin'  Miss 
Mollic  h'yer.  SD  I  made  it  up  wid  mammy,  dat  \vo 
should  wuk  on  till  we'd  got  'nough  ter  come  back  ;  an' 
den  we'd  come,  an'  I'd  stop  at  some  place  whar  I  wa'n't 
knowed,  an'  let  her  come  h'yer  an'  see  ho\v  t'ings  vvuz. 

"I'd  jest  about  got  ter  dat  pint,  when  I  hed  anodder 
pull-back.  Yer  see,  dar  wuz  two  men,  both  claimed  ter 
be  sheriff  o'  dat  parish.  Dat  was— let  me  see,  dat  was 
jes  de  tenth  yeah  alter  de  S'render,  fo'  years  atter  I  left 
h'yer.  One  on  'em,  ez  near  ez  1  could  make  out,  was  ap- 
p'inted  by  de  Guv'ner,  an'  t'odder  by  a  man  dat  claimed 
ter  be  Guv'ner.  De  fust  one  called  on  de  cullu'd  men 
ter  help  him  hold  de  Court  House  an'  keep  t'ings 
a-g\vine  on  light  ;  an'  de  t'odder,  he  raised  a  little  army  an' 
come  agin'  us.  I'd  been  a  sojer,  yer  know,  an'  I  t'ought 
I  wuz  bound  ter  stan'  up  fer  de  guv'ment.  So  I  went 
in  ter  fight  wid  de  rest.  We  t'rew  up  some  bres'wuks, 
an'  when  dey  druv  us  on  ten  dem  we  fell  back  inter  de 
Court  House.  Den  dar  come  a  boat  load  o*  white  folks 
down  from  Sweevepo't,  an'  we  hed  a  hard  time  a- fight- 
in'  on  'em.  Lots  ob  us  got  killed,  an'  some  o'  dem. 
We  hadn't  many  guns  ner  much  ammunition.  It  war 
powerful  hot,  an'  water  wuz  skeerce. 

"  So,  alter  a  while,  we  sent  a  flag  o'  truce,  an'  'greed 
ter  s'render  ebberyting,  on  condition  dat  dey  wouldn't 
hurt  us  no  mo'.  Jest  ez  quick  ez  we  gib  up  dey  tuk  us 
all  pris'ners.  Dar  was  twenty-sebben  in  de  squad  I  wuz 
wid.  'Long  a  while  atter  dark,  dey  tuk  us  out  an' 
marched  us  off,  wid  a  guard  on  each  side.  We  hadn't 
gone  more'n  two  or  t'ree  hundred  yards  afo'  de  guard 
begun  ter  shoot  at  us.  Dey  hit  me  in  t'ree  places,  an'  I 
fell  down  an'  rolled  inter  a  ditch  by  de  roadside,  kinder 
under  de  weeds  like.  Alter  a  while  I  sorter  come  ter 
myself  an'  crawled  on  fru  de  weeds  ter  de  bushes.  Nex* 


THE  SHUTTLECOCK  OF  FA  TE.  485 

clay  I  got  a  chance  ter  send  word  ter  mammy,  an'  she  come 
an'  missed  me  till  we  managed  ter  slip  away  from  dar. " 

"  Poor  Nimbus  !"  said  Mollie,  weeping.  '  You  have 
had  a  hard  time  indeed  !" 

"  Not  so  bad  as  de  odders, "  was  the  reply.  "  Dar 
wuz  only  two  on  us  dat  got  away  at  all.  The  rest  wuz 
all  killed." 

"Yes, "said  Hesden,  "I  remember  that  affair.  It 
was  a  horrible  thing.  When  will  our  Southern  people 
learn  wisdom  !" 

"  I  dunno  dat,  Marse  Hesden,"  said  Nimbus,  "  but  I 
do  know  dat  de  cullu'd  folks  is  larnin'  enough  ter  git 
outen  dat.  You  jes  mark  my  words,  cf  dese  t'ings  keep 
a-gwine  on,  niggers'll  be  skeerce  in  dis  kentry  purty 
soon.  We  can't  be  worse  off,  go  whar  we  will,  an'  I  jes 
count  a  cullu'd  man  a  fool  dat  don't  pole  out  an'  git 
away  jest  ez  soon  ez  he  finds  a  road  cut  out  dat  he  kin 
trabbel  on." 

"  But  that  was  three  years  ago,  Nimbus,"  said  Hes 
den.  "  Where  have  you  been  since  ?" 

"Wai,  yer  see,  atter  dat,"  said  Nimbus,  "we  wuz 
afeared  ter  stay  dar  any  mo'.  So  we  went  ober  inter 
Miss'ippi,  mammy  an'  me,  an'  went  ter  wuk  agin.  I 
wasn't  berry  strong,  but  wewukked  hard  an'  libbed  hard 
ter  git  money  ter  come  back  wid.  Mammy  wuz  power 
ful  anxious  ter  git  back  h'yer  afo'  she  died.  We  got 
along  tollable-like,  till  de  cotting  wuz  about  all  picked, 
an'  hadn't  drawed  no  wages  at  all,  to  speak  on.  Den, 
one  day,  de  boss  man  on  de  plantation,  he  picked  a 
quarrel  wid  mammy  'bout  de  wuk,  an'  presently  hit  her 
ober  her  ole  gray  head  wid  his  cane.  I  couldn't  stan' 
dat,  nohow,  so  I  struck  him,  an'  we  hed  a  fight.  I 
warn't  nuffin'  ter  what  I  war  once,  but  dar  war  a  power 
o'  strength  in  me  yet,  ez  he  found  out, 


486  B RICK'S  U'JTIfOUT  STKAll'. 

"  Dey  tuk  me  up  an'  carried  me  ter  jail,  an'  when  de 
court  come  on,  my  ole  mammy  \vuz  dead  ;  so  I  couldn't 
prove  she  war  my  mammy,  an'  I  don't  'llo\v  'twould  hev 
made  enny  difference  ef  I  had.  The  jury  said  I  war 
guilty,  an'  de  judge  fined  me  a  hundred  dollars  an'  de 
costs,  an'  sed  I  wuz  ter  be  hired  out  at  auction  ter  pay 
de  fine,  an'  costs,  an'  sech  like.  So  I  wuz  auctioned  off, 
an'  brought  twenty-five  cents  a  day.  'Cordin'  ter  de 
law,  I  hed  ter  wuk  two  days  ter  make  up  my  keep  for 
ebbery  one  I  lost.  I  war  sick  an'  low-sperrited,  an' 
hadn't  no  heart  ter  wuk,  so  I  lost  a  heap  o'  days.  Den 
I  run  away  once  or  twice,  but  dey  cotch  me,  an'  brought 
me  back.  So  I  kcp'  losin1  time,  an'  didn't  git  clean 
away  till  'bout  four  months  ago.  Sence  den  I'se  been 
wukkin'  my  way  back,  jes  dat  skeery  dat  I  dassent  hardly 
wralk  de  roads  fer  fear  I'd  be  tuk  up  agin.  But  I  felt 
jes  like  my  ole  mammy  dat  wanted  ter  come  back  h'yer 
ter  die. " 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  die,"  said  Mollie,  smiling 
through  her  tears.  '  Your  plantation  is  all  right.  We 
will  send  for  'Gena  and  the  children, and  you  and  Eliab 
can  live  again  at  Red  Wing  and  be  happy." 

"  I  don't  want  ter  lib  dar,  Miss  Mollie,"  said  Nim 
bus.  "  I  ain't  a-gwine  ter  die,  ez  you  say  ;  but  I  don't 
want  ter  lib  h'yer,  ner  don't  want  my  chillen  ter.  I 
want  'em  ter  lib  whar  dey  kin  be  free,  an'  hev  'bout 
half  a  white  man's  chance,  ennyhow." 

"  But  what  about  Red  Wing  ?"  asked  Hesden. 

"  I'd  like  ter  see  it  once  mo',"  said  the  broken 
hearted  man,  while  the  tears  ran  down  his  face.  "  I 
'llowed  once  that  I'd  hab  a  heap  o'  comfort  dar  in  my 
ole  days.  But  dat's  all  passed  an1  gone,  now — passed 
an'  gone  !  I'll  tell  yer  what,  Marse  Ilesden,  I  allus 
'llowed  fer  Bre'er  'Liab  ter  hev  half  o'  dat  plantation. 


7V//T   EXODIAN'.  487 

Now  yer  jes  makes  out  de  papers  an'   let  him   hev  de 
whole  on't,  an'  I  goes  ter  Kansas  wid  'Gena.  " 

"  No,  no,  Nimbus,"  said  Eliab  ;  "  I  could  not  con 
sent—" 

'  Yes  yer  kin,  'Liab,"  said  Nimbus  quickly,  with 
some  of  his  old-time  arrogance.  "  Yer  kin  an'  yer  will. 
You  kin  use  dat  er  trac'  o'  Ian'  an'  make  it  wuth  sun- 
thin'  ter  our  people,  an'  I  can't.  So,  yer  sees,  I'll  jes 
bea-doin'  my  sheer,  an'  I'll  allus  t'ink,  when  I  hears  how 
yer's  gittin'  along  an'  a-doin'  good,  dat  I'se  a  pardner 
wid  ye  in  de  wuk  o'  gibbin'  light  ter  our  people,  so  dat 
dey'll  know  how  ter  be  free  an'  keep  free  forebber  an' 
ebber.  Amen  !" 

The  listeners  echoed  his  "  amen,"  and  Eliab,  flinging 
himself  into  the  arms  of  Nimbus,  by  whom  he  had  been 
sitting,  and  whose  hand  he  had  held  during  the  entire 
narrative,  buried  his  face  upon  his  breast  and  wept. 


CHAPTER    LX. 

THE     KXODIAN. 

HESDEN  and  Mollie  were  on  their  way  homeward  from 

Eupclia,  where  they  had  inspected  their  property  and 
had  seen  Nimbus  united  with  his  family  and  settled  for 
a  new  and  more  hopeful  start  in  life.  They,  had  reached 
that  wonderful  young  city  of  seventy-seven  hills  which 
faces  toward  free  Kansas  and  reluctantly  bears  the  ban 
which  slavery  put  upon  Missouri.  While  they  waited 
for  their  train  in  the  crowded  depot  in  which  the  great 
ever-welcoming  far  West  meets  and  first  shakes  hands 
with  ever-swarming  East,  they  strolled  about  among  the 
shifting  crowd. 


488  fi  RICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

Soon  they  came  upon  a  dusky  group  whose  bags  and 
bundles,  variegated  attire,  and  unmistakable  speech 
showed  that  they  were  a  party  of  those  misguided  creat 
ures  who  were  abandoning  the  delights  of  the  South  for 
the  untried  horrors  of  a  life  upon  the  plains  of  Kansas. 
These  were  of  all  ages,  from  the  infant  in  arms  to  the 
decrepit  patriarch,  and  of  every  shade  of  color,  from 
Saxon  fairness  with  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair  to  ebon 
blackness.  They  were  telling  their  stories  to  a  circle  of 
curious  listeners.  There  was  no  lack  of  variety  of  in 
cident,  but  a  wonderful  similarity  of  motive  assigned  for 
the  exodus  they  had  undertaken. 

There  were  ninety-four  of  them,  and  they  came  from 
five  different  States  —  Alabama,  Georgia,  Mississippi, 
Louisiana,  and  Texas.  They  had  started  without  pre 
concert,  and  were  unacquainted  with  each  other  until 
they  had  collected  into  one  body  as  the  lines  of  travel 
converged  on  the  route  to  Kansas.  A  fe\v  of  the  younger 
ones  said  that  they  had  come  because  they  had  heard  that 
Kansas  was  a  country  where  there  was  plenty  of  work 
and  good  wages,  and  where  a  colored  man  could  get  pay 
for  what  he  did.  Others  told  strange  tales  of  injustice 
and  privation.  Some,  in  explanation  of  thtir  evident 
poverty,  showed  the  contracts  under  which  they  had 
labored.  Some  told  of  personal  outrage,  of  rights  with 
held,  and  of  law  curiously  diverted  from  the  ends  of  jus 
tice  to  the  promotion  of  wrong.  ]Jy  far  the  greater  num 
ber  of  them,  however,  declared  their  purpose  to  be  to 
find  a  place  where  their  children  could  grow  up  free,  re 
ceive  education,  and  have  "  a  white  man's  chance"  in 
the  struggle  of  life.  They  did  not  expect  ease  or  afflu 
ence  themselves,  but  for  their  offspring  they  craved  lib 
erty,  knowledge,  and  a  fair  start. 

While  Hcsdcn  and  Mollie  stood  watching  this  group, 


THE  EXODIAN. 

with  the  interest  one  always  feels  in  that  which  reminds 
him  of  home,  seeing  in  these  people  the  forerunners  of 
a  movement  which  promised  to  assume  astounding  pro 
portions  in  the  near  future,  they  were  startled  by  an  ex 
clamation  from  one  of  the  party  : 

"  \Vtill,  I  declar'  !  Ef  dar  ain't  Miss  Mollie — an'  'fore 
God,  Marse  Hesden,  too  !"  Stumbling  over  the  scat 
tered  bundles  in  his  way,  and  pushing  aside  those  who 
stood  around,  Berry  Lawson  scrambled  into  the  pres 
ence  of  the  travelers,  bowing  and  scraping,  and  chuck 
ling  with  delight  ;  a  battered  wool  hat  in  one  hand,  a 
shocking  assortment  of  dilapidated  clothing  upon  his  per 
son,  but  his  face  glowing  with  honest  good-nature,  and 
his  tones  resonant  of  fun,  as  if  care  and  he  had  always 
been  strangers. 

"  How  d'ye,  Miss  Mollie — sah'vent,  Marse  Hesden.  I 
'How  1  must  be  gitiin'  putty  nigh  ter  de  promised  Ian' 
when  I  sees  you  once  mo'.  Yah,  yah  !  Yer  hain't  done 
forgot  Berry,  I  s'pose  ?  Kase  ef  yer  hez,  I'll  jes  hev 
ter  whistle  a  chime  ter  call  myself  ter  mind.  Jes,  fer  in 
stance  now,  like  dis  h'yer." 

Then  raising  his  hands  and  swaying  his  body  in  easy 
accompaniment,  he  began  to  imitate  the  mocking-bird  in 
his  mimicry  of  his  feathered  companions.  He  was  very 
proud  of  this  accomplishment,  and  his  performance  soon 
drew  attention  from  all  parts  of  the  crowded  depot. 
Noticing  this,  Hesden  said, 

"  There,  there,  Berry  ;  that  will  do.  There  is  no 
doubt  as  to  your  identity.  We  both  believe  that  nobody 
but  Berry  Lawson  could  do  that,  and  are  very  glad  to 
see  you."  Mollie  smiled  assent. 

"  T'ank  ye,  sah.  Much  obleeged  fer  de  compliment. 
Hope  I  see  yer  well,  an'  Miss  Mollie  de  same.  Yer  do 
me  proud,  both  on  yer,"  said  Berry,  bowing  and  scrap- 


A  9°  r.K  fCA'S   II V THO  U  T  S  TRA  II '. 

ing  again,  making  a  ball  of  his  old  hat,  sidling  restlessly 
back  and  forth,  and  displaying  all  the  limpsy  litheness 
of  his  figure,  in  his  embarrassed  attempts  to  show  his 
enjoyment.  *  Tears  like  yer's  trabblin'  in  company," 
he  added,  with  a  glance  at  Mollie's  hand  resting  on  lies- 
den's  arm. 

1  Yes,"  said  Hesden  good-naturedly  ;  "  Miss  Moliie 
is  Mrs.  Le  Moyne  now." 

"  Yer  don't  say  !"  said  Berry,  in  surprise.  "  Der 
Lo'd  an'  der  nation,  what  will  happen  next  ?  Miss  Mol- 
lie  an'  Marse  Hesden  done  married  an'  a-meetin'  up 
wid  Berry  out  h'yer  on  de  berry  edge  o'  cle  kingdom  ! 
Jest  cz  soon  hab  expected  to  a'  seen  de  vanguard  o'  de 
resurrection.  Yer  orter  be  mighty  proud,  Marse  Hes 
den.  We  used  ter  t'ink,  'bout  Red  Wing,  dat  dar 
wa'n't  nary  man  dat  ebber  cast  a  shadder  good  'nough 
fer  Miss  Molhe." 

"  And  so  there  isn't, "  said  Hesden,  laughing.  "  But  we 
can't  stand  here  and  talk  all  day.  Where  are  you  from  ?" 

"  Whp.r's  I  frum  ?  Ebbery  place  on  de  green  yairth, 
Marse  Hesden,  'ceptin'  dis  one,  whar  dey  hez  ter  shoe 
de  goats  fer  ter  help  'em  climb  de  bluffs  ;  an'  please  de 
Lo'd  I'll  be  from  h'yer  jest  es  soon  cz  de  train  come's 
'  long  dat's  '  boun'  fer  de  happy  land  of  Canaan.'  ' 

"  We  shall  have  to  stop  over,  dear,"  said  Hesden  to 
his  wife.  '  There's  no  doing  anything  with  Berry  in 
the  time  we  have  between  the  trains.  Have  you  any 
baggage  ?"  he  asked  of  Berry. 

"  Baggage  ?  Dat  I  hab — a  whole  handkercher  full  o' 
clean  clo'es — jest  ez  soon  ez  dey's  been  washed,  yer  know. 
Yah,  yah  !" 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  Whar's  I  gsvine  ?  Gwine  West,  ter  grow  up  wid  de 
kentry,  Marse  Hesden." 


THE  RXODIAX.  49  * 

"  There,  there,  take  your  bundle  and  come  along." 
44  All  right,  Marse  Hesden.  Jest  ez  soon  wuk  fer 
you  ez  ennybody.  Good-by,  folkses."  said  he,  waving 
his  hat  to  his  late  traveling  companions.  "  I'se  mighty 
sorry  to  leave  yer,  but  biz  is  biz,  yer  know,  an'  I'se  gof 
a  job.  Wish  yer  good  luck,  all  on  yer.  Jes  let  'em 
know  I'm  on  der  way,  will  yer  ? 

Ef  yo'  gits  dar  afo'  I  do, 

Jes  tell  'em  I'se  a  comin'  too," 

he  sang,  as  he  followed  Hesden  and  Mollie  out  of  the 
depot,  amid  the  laughter  of  the  crowd  which  had  gath 
ered  about  them.  Their  baggage  was  soon  removed  from 
the  platform,  and,  with  Berry  on  the  seat  with  the  driver, 
they  went  to  the  hotel.  Then,  taking  him  down  the  busy 
street  that  winds  around  between  the  sharp  hills  as  though 
it  had  crawled  up,  inch  by  inch,  from  the  river-bottom 
below,  Hesden  procured  him  some  new  clothes  and  a 
valise,  which  Berry  persisted  in  calling  a  "  have'em- 
bag,"  and  took  him  back  to  the  hotel  as  his  servant. 
As  Hesden  started  to  his  room,  the  rejuvenated  fugitive 
inquired, 

"  Please,  Marse  Hesden,  does  yer  know  ennyt'ing 
what's  a  come  ob  —  ob  my  Sally  an'  de  chillen.  It's 
been  a  powerful  time  sence  I  seed  'em,  Marse  Hesden. 
I  'How  ter  send  fer  'em  jest  ez  quick  ez  I  find  whar  dey 
is,  an'  gits  de  money,  yer  know." 

"  They  are  all  right,    Berry.     You  may  come  to  my 
room  in  half  an  hour,  and  we  will  tell  you  all  about  them, 
answered  Hesden. 

Hardly  had  he  reached  his  room  when  he  heard  the 
footsteps  of  Bsrry  without.  Going  to  the  door  he  was 
met  by  Berry  with  the  explanation, 

"  Beg  parding,    Marse  Hesden,     I  knowed  'twa'n't 


492  XKICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

de  time  fer  me  ter  come  yit,  but   somehow  I  'llowed   it 

would  git  on  pearler  ef  I   wuz  sornewhar  nigh   you   an' 

Miss  Mollie.     I'se  half  afeared  I'se  ies  been,  dreamin' 

ennyhow." 

'  \V<J1,  come  in,"  said  Hesden.  Berry  entered  the 
room,  and  sat  in  unwonted  silence  while  Mollie  and  her 
husband  told  him  what  the  reader  already  knows  about 
his  family  and  friends.  The  poor  fellow's  tears  flowed 
freely,  but  he  did  not  interrupt,  save  to  ask  now  and 
then  a  question.  When  they  had  concluded,  he  sat  a 
while  in  silence,  and  then  said, 

"  BressdeLo'd  !  Berry  won't  nebberhabno  mo'  doubt 
'bout  de  Lo'd  takin'  keerobebberybody— speshully  nig- 
gas  an'  fools.  H'yer  I'se  been  a-fedin'  mighty  hard 
kase  de  Ole  Marster  'llowed  Berry  ter  be  boxed  roun', 
h'yer  an'  dar,  fus'  dis  way  an'  now  dat,  an'  let  him  be 
run  off  from  his  wife  an'  chillen  dat  he  fought  der 
couldn't  nobody  take  keer  on  but  hissef  ;  an'  h'yer  all 
de  time  de  good  Lo'd  hez  been  a-lookin'  alter  'cm  an' 
a-nussin'  'em  like  little  lambs,  widoul  my  knowin'  enny- 
t'ing  about  it,  cr  even  axin'  fer  him  ter  do  it.  Berry  !" 
he  continued,  speaking  to  himself,  "  yer's  jest  a  gran' 
rascal,  an'  desarve  ter  be  whacked  roun'  an'  go  hungry 
fer — " 

"Berry,"  interrupted  Mollie,  "have  you  had  your 
breakfast  ?" 

"Brekfas',  Miss  Mollie?"  said  Berry,  "what  Berry 
want  ob  any  brekfas'  ?  Ain't  what  yer's  been  a-lellin' 
on  him  brekfas'  an'  dinner  an'  supper  ter  him  ?  Brekfas' 
don't  mailer  ler  him  now.  He's  jes  dat  full  o'  good 
t'ings  dat  he  won't  need  no  mo'  for  a  week  at  de  berry 
least." 

'  Tell  the  truth,  Berry  ;  when  did  you  eat  last  ?" 

"Wai,  I   'clar,  Miss  Mollie,  ef  Berry  don't  make  no 


THE  EXODIAN.  493 

mistake,  he  heel  a  squar  meal  night  afo'  las',  afo'  we  leave 
Saint  Le\vy.  De  yemergrant  train  runs  mighty  slow,  an' 
Berry  wa'n't  patronizin'  none  o'  dem  cheap  shops  'long 
de  way — not  much  ;  yah,  yah  !" 

Hesden  soon  arranged  to  relieve  his  discomfort,  and 
that  night  he  told  them  where  he  had  been  and  what  had 
befallen  him  in  the  mean  time. 

BERRY'S  STORY. 

"  Yer  see,  alter  I  lef  Bre'er  Nimbus,  I  went  back 
down  inter  Hanson  County  ;  but  I  wuz  jes  dat  bad 
skeered  dat  I  darn't  show  myse'f  in  de  daytime  at  all. 
So  I  jes'  tuk  Sally  an'  dechillenin  de  carry-all  dat  Nim 
bus  lent  me  wid  de  mule,  an'  started  on  furder  down 
east.  'Clar,  I  jes  hev  ter  pay  Nimbus  fer  dat  mule  an* 
carry-all,  de  berry  fus'  money  I  gits  out  h'yer  in  Kansas. 
It  certain  war  a  gret  help  ter  Berry.  Jest  as  long  ez  I 
hed  dat  ter  trabbel  wid,  I  knowed  I  war  safe  ;  kase  nobody 
wouldn't  nebber  'spect  I  was  runnin'  away  in  dat  sort 
ob  style.  Wai,  I  went  way  down  east,  an'  denex'  spring 
went  ter  crappin'  on  sheers  on  a  cotting  plantation.  Sally 
'n'  me  we  jes  made  up  our  minds  dat  we  wouldn't  draw  no 
rations  from  de  boss  man,  ner  ax  him  fer  ary  cent  ob 
money  de  whole  yeah,  an'  den,  yer  know,  dar  wouldn't 
be  nary  'count  agin  us  when  de  year  wuz  ober.  So 
Sally,  she  'llowed  dat  she'd  wuk  fer  de  bread  an'  meat  an' 
take  keer  ob  de  chillen,  wid  de  few  days'  help  I  might 
spar'  outen  de  crap.  De  boss  man,  he  war  boun'  by  de 
writin's  ter  feed  de  mule.  Dat's  de  way  we  sot  in. 

"  We  got  'long  mighty  peart  like  till  some  time  atter 
de  crap  wuz  laid  by,  'long  bout  roastin' -ear-time.  Den 
Sally  tuk  sick,  an'  de  fus'  dat  I  knowed  we  wuz  out  o' 
meat.  Sally  wuz  powerful  sot  agin  my  goin'  ter  de  boss 
man  fer  enny  orders  on  destore,  kase  we  knowed  how  dat 


494  BRICKS  Wl  TltO  U  T  S  TKA  I  r. 

wiikkedafo'.  Den  I  sez,  '  Seeh'yer,  Sally,  I'se  done  got 
it.  Dar's  dat  piece  o'o  corn  dar,  below  de  house,  is  jest 
a-gittin'  good  fer  roastin-yeahs.  Now,  we'll  jes  pick  offen 
de  outside  rows,  an'  I'll  be  dod-dinged  ef  we  can't  git 
'longwid  dat  till  de  crap  comes  off  ;  an' I'll  jcs  tell  Marse 
Hooper — dat  wuz  de  name  o*  de  man  what  owned  de 
plantation — dat  I'll  take  dem  rows  inter  my  sheer.'  So 
it  went  on  fer  a  week  er  two,  an'  I  t'ought  I  wuz  jes 
gittin'  on  like  a  quarter  hoss.  Sally  wuz  nigh  'bout  well, 
an'  'llowed  she'd  be  ready  ter  go  ter  wuk  de  nex'  week  ; 
when  one  mo'nin'  1  tuk  the  basket  an'  went  down  ter 
pick  some  corn.  Jest  ez  I'd  got  de  basket  nigh  'bout 
full,  who  should  start  up  dar,  outen  de  bushes,  on'y  jes 
Marse  Hooper  ;  an'  he  sez,  mighty  brisk-like,  '  So  ?  I 
'llowed  I'd  cotch  yer  'fore  I  got  fru  !  Stealin'  corn,  is 
yer  ? ' 

"  Den  I  jes  larfed  right  out,  an'  sez  I,  '  Dat's  de  fus' 
time  I  ebber  heerd  ob  ennybody  a-stealin'  corn  out  ob 
his  own  field  !  Yah  !  yah  !  '  Jes  so-like.  '  Ain't  dis 
yer  my  crap,  Marse  Hooper  ?  Didn't  I  make  it,  jest 
a-payin'  ter  you  one  third  on't  for  de  rent  ?'  T'ought 
I  hed  him,  yer  know.  But,  law  sakes,  he  didn't  hev 
no  sech  notion,  not  much.  So  he  sez,  sez  he  : 

'  No  yer  don't  !  Dat  mout  a'  done  once,  when  de 
Radikils  wuz  in  power,  but  de  legislatur  las'  winter  dey 
made  a  diff  rent  sort  ob  a  law,  slightually.  Dey  sed 
dat  ef  a  renter  tuk  away  enny  o1  de  crap  afo'  it  wuz  all 
harvested  an'  diwided,  widout  de  leave  o'  de  owner,  got 
afo'hand,  he  was  guilty  o'  stealin'  '— larsininy,  he  called 
it,  but  its  all  de  same.  An'  he  sed,  sez  he,  '  Dar  ain't  no 
use  now,  Berry  Lawson.  Yer's  jes  got  yer  choice.  Yer 
kin  jes  git  up  an'  git,  er  else  I  hez  yer  'dieted  an'  sent 
ter  State  prison  fer  not  less  ner  one  year  nor  more'n 
twenty — dat's  'ccrdin*  ter  de  law.' 


THE  EXODIAX.  495 

"  Den  I  begun   ter  be  skeered-like,  an'  I  sez,  sez  I, 
Arn't  yer  gwine  ter  let  me  stay  an'  gether  my  crap  ?' 

"  '  Damn  de  crap/  sez  he  (axin'  yer  parding,  Miss 
Mollie,  fer  usin'  cuss-words),  '  I'll  take  keer  o'  de  crap  ; 
Icn't  yer  be  afeared  o' dat.  Yer  t'ought  yer  was  damn 
>mart,  didn't  yer,  not  takin'  enny  store  orders,  an'  a-tryin* 
to  fo'ce  me  ter  pay  yer  cash  in  de  lump  ?  But  now  I'se  got 
yer.  Dis  Lan'lo'd  an'  Tenant  Act  war  made  fer  jes 
sech  cussed  smart  niggers  ez  you  is.' 

"  '  Marse  Hooper,'  sez  I,  '  is  dat  de  law  ? ' 

1  Sartin,'  sez  he,  '  jes  you  come  long  widme  ober  ter 
Squar  Tice's,  an'  ef  he  don't  say  so  I'll  quit — dat's  all.' 

"  So  we  went  ober  ter  Squar  Tice's,  an'  he  sed  Marse 
Hooper  war  right  —dat  it  war  stealin'  all  de  same,  even 
ef  it  war  my  own  crap.  Den  I  seed  dat  Marse  Hooper  hed 
me  close,  an'  I  begun  ter  beg  off,  kase  I  knowed  it  war 
a  heap  easier  ter  feed  him  soft  corn  dan  ter  fight  him  in 
de  law,  when  I  wuz  boun'  ter  git  whipped.  De  Squar 
war  a  good  sort  cb  man,  an'  he  kinder  'suaded  Marse 
Hooper  ter  '  comp  '  de  matter  wid  me  ;  an'  dat's  what 
we  did  finally.  He  gin  me  twenty  dollahs  an'  I  signed 
away  all  my  right  ter  de  crap.  Den  he  turned  in 
an'  wanted  ter  hire  me  fer  de  nex  yeah  ;  but  de  Squar,  he 
tuk  me  out  an'  sed  I'd  better  git  away  from  dar,  kase 
ennybody  could  bring  de  matter  up  agin  me  an'  git  me 
put  in  de  penitentiary  fer  it,  atter  all  dat  hed  been  sed 
an'  done.  So  we  geared  up,  an'  moved  on.  Sally  felt 
mighty  bad,  an'  it  did  seem  hard  ;  but  I  tried  ter  chirk 
her  up,  yer  know,  an'  tole  her  dat,  rough  ez  it  war,  it 
war  better  nor  we'd  ebber  done  afo',  kase  we  hed  twenty 
dollahs  an'  didn't  owe  nuffin'. 

"  I  'llowed  we'd  git  clean  away  dat  time,  an'  we  didn't 
stop  till  we'd  got  inter  anodder  State." 

"  VVal,  dar  I  sot  in  ter  wuk  a  cotting  crap  agin.     Dis 


496  BRfCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

time  I  'llowed  I'd  jes  take  de  odder  way  ;  an'  so  I  tuk 
up  all  de  orders  on  de  sto'  dut  de  boss  man  would  let 
me  hev,  kase  I  'llowed  ter  git  what  I  could  cz  I  went 
'long,  yer  know.  So,  alter  de  cotting  wuz  all  picked, 
an'  de  'counts  all  settled  up,  dar  warn't  only  jest  om? 
little  bag  ob  lint  a  comin'  ter  Berry.  I  tuk  dat  inter 
de  town  one  Saturday  in  de  ebenin',  an'  went  roun' 
h'yer  an'  d.ir,  a-tryin'  ter  git  de  biggest  price  'mong  de 
buyers  dat  1  could. 

It  happened  dat  I  done  forgot  al  'bout  it's  comin' 
on  late,  an'  jest  a  little  atter  sun-clown,  I  struck  on  a 
man  dat  offered  me  'bout  a  cent  a  poun'  more'n  enny- 
body  else  hed  done,  an'  I  traded  wid  him.  Den  I 
druv  de  mule  rcun',  an'  hed  jes  got  de  cotting  out 
ob  de  carry-all  an'  inter  de  sto',  when,  fust  I  knowed, 
'long  come  a  p'liceman  an'  tuk  me  up  for  selling  cot- 
ting  atter  sun-down.  I  tole  him  dat  it  was  my  own  cot- 
ting,  what  I'd  done  raised  myself,  but  he  sed  cz  how  it 
didn't  make  no  sort  of  diff'rence  at  all.  He  'clarcd  dat 
de  law  sed  cz  how  ennybody  ez  sold  er  offered  fer  sale 
any  cotting  atter  sundown  an'  afore  sun-up,  should  be 
sent  ter  jail  jes  de  same  ez  ef  he'd  done  stole  it.  Den 
I  axed  de  man  dat  bought  de  cotting  tcr  gib  it  back  ter 
me,  but  he  wouldn't  do  dat,  nohow,  nor  de  money  for  it 
nuther.  So  dey  jes'  toted  me  off  ter  jail. 

I  knowed  der  warn't  no  use  in  sayin'  nuffm'  den.  So 
when  Sally  come  in  I  tole  her  ter  jes  take  dat  ar  mule  an' 
carry-all  an'  sell  'em  off  jest  ez  quick  ez  she  could,  so  dat 
nobody  wouldn't  git  hold  ob  dem.  But  when  she  tried  tcr 
do  it,  de  boss  man  stopped  her  from  it,  kase  he  hed  a 
mortgage  on  'em  fer  de  contract  ;  an'  he  sed  ez  how  1 
hedn't  kep'  my  bargain  kase  I'd  gone  an'  got  put  in  jail 
afo'  de  yeah  was  out.  So  she  couldn't  git  no  money  ter 
pay  a  lawyer,  an'  I  don't  s'pose  'twould  hev  done  enny 


THE  EXODfAN;  497 

good  ef  she  bed.  I  tole  her  not  ter  mind  no  mo'  'bout 
me,  but  jes  ter  come  back  ter  Red  Wing  an'  see  ef  Miss 
Mollie  couldn't  help  her  out  enny.  Yer  see  I  was  jes 
shore  dey'd  put  me  in  de  chain-gang,  an'  I  didn't  want 
her  ner  de  chillen  ter  be  whar  dey'd  see.  me  a  totin' 
'roun'  a  ball  an'  chain. 

Shore  'nough,  'when  de  court  come  on,  dey  tried 
me  an'  fotch  me  in  guilty  o'  sellin'  cotting  atter  sun 
down.  De  jedge,  he  lectured  me  powerful  fer  a  while, 
an'  den  he  ax  me  what  Ird  got  ter  say  'bout  it.  Dat's 
de  way  I  understood  him  ter  say,  ennyhow.  So,  ez  he 
wuz  dat  kind  ez  ter  ax  me  ter  speak  in  meetin',  I 
'llowed  twa'n't  no  mo'  dan  polite  fer  me  ter  say  a  few 
words,  yer  know.  I  told  him  squar  out  dat  I  t'ought 
'twas  a  mighty  quarc  law  an'  a  mighty  mean  one,  too, 
dat  put  a  man  in  de  chain-gang  jeskasehe  sold  his  own 
cctting  atter  sundown,  when  dey  let  ennybody  buy  it 
an'  not  pay  fer  it  at  all.  I  tole  him  dat  dey  let  'em 
sell  whisky  an'  terbacker  an'  calico  and  sto'  clo'es  an' 
ebbery  t'ing  dat  a  nigger  hed  ter  buy,  jest  all  times  o' 
day  an'  night  ;  an'  I  jest  bleeved  dat  de  whole  t'ing 
war  jest  a  white  man's  trick  ter  git  niggas  in  de  chain- 
gang.  Den  de  jedge  he  tried  ter  set  down  on  me  an' 
tole  me  ter  stop,  but  I  wuz  dat  mad  dat  when  I  got  a- 
gvvine  dar  warn't  no  stoppin'  me  till  de  sheriff  he  jes 
grabbed  me  by  de  scruff  o'  de  neck,  an'  sot  me  down  jest 
ennyway — all  in  a  heap,  yer  know.  Den  de  jedge  passed 
sentence,  yer  know,  an'  he  sed  dat  he  gib  me  one  year 
fer  de  stealin'  an*  one  year  fer  sassin'  de  Court. 

"  So  dey  tuk  me  back  ter  jail,  but,  Lor'  bress  ye,  dey 
didn't  git  me  inter  de  chain-gang,  nohow.  Tore  de 
mo'nin'  come  I'd  jes  bid  good-by  ter  dut  jail  an' 
was  a  pintin'  outen  dat  kentry,  in  my  weak  way,  ez  de 
ministers  say,  jest  ez  fast  ez  1  could  git  obsr  de  groun'. 


498  BK/CA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  Den  I  jcs  clean  gib  up.  I  couldn't  take  my  back 
trac  nowhar,  fer  fear  I'd  be  Ink  up.  I  t'ought  it  all 
ober  while  I  wuz  a  trabblin'  'long  ;  an'  I  swar  ter  God, 
Marse  Hesden,  I  jes  did  peg  out  ob  all  hope.  I 
couldn't  go  back  ter  Sallie  an'  de  chillen,  ner  couldn't 
do  'em  enny  good  ef  I  did  ;  ner  I  couldn't  send  fer  dem 
ter  come  ter  me,  kase  I  hedn't  nuffin'  ter  fotch  'em  wid. 
So  I  jes  kinder  gin  out,  an'  went  a-sloshin'  roun',  not 
a-keerin'  what  I  done  er  what  was  ter  come  en  me.  I 
kep'  a'sendin'  letters  ter  Sally  h'yer  an'  dar,  but,  bress 
yer  scul,  I  nebber  heard  nuffin'  on  'em  atterwards.  Den 
I  t'ought  I'd  try  an'  git  money  ter  go  an'  hunt  'em  up, 
but  it  was  jes'  ez  it  was  afo'.  I  dunno  how,  but  de 
harder  I  wuk  de  porer  I  got,  till  finally  I  jes  started  off 
afoot  an'  alone  ter  go  ter  Kansas  ;  an*  h'yer  1  is,  ready 
ter  grow  up  wid  de  kentry,  Marse  Hesden,  jest  ez  soon 
ex  I  gits  ter  Sally  an'  de  chillen." 

"  I'm  glad  you  have  net  had  any  political,  trouble," 
said  Hesden. 

"  P'litical  trouble  ?"  said  Berry.  "  \Val,  Marse  Hes 
den,  yer  knows  dat  Berry  is  jcs  too  good-natered  ter 
do  ennyt'ing  but  wuk  an'  laif,  an'  do  a  little  whistlin* 
an  banjo-pickin*  by  way  ob  a  change  ;  but  I  be  dinged 
ef  it  don't  'pear  ter  me  dat  it's  all  p'litical  trouble. 
Who's  Berry  ebber  hurt?  What's  he  ebber  done,  I'd 
like  ter  know,  ter  be  debbled  roun' disyer  way  ?  I  use  ter 
vote,  ob  co'se.  T'ought  I  hed  a  right  ter,  an'  dat  it  war 
my  duty  ter  de  kentry  dat  hed  gib  me  so  much.  But  I 
don't  do  dat  no  mo'.  Two  year  ago  I  quit  dat  sort  o' 
foolishness.  What's  de  use  ?  I  see'd  'cm  count  de 
votes,  Marse  Hesden,  an'  den  I  knowed  dar  warn't  no 
mo'  use  ob  votin'  gin  dat.  Yer  know,  dey  'pints  all  de 
jedges  ob  de  'lection  derselves,  an'  so  count  de  votes  jest 
cz  dey  wants  'em.  Dar  in  our  precinct  war  two  right 


777 K   r.XODLlX.  499 

good  white  men,  but  dey  'pinted  nary  one  o'  dem  ter 
count  de  votes.  Oh  no,  not  ter  speak  on  !  Dey  puts 
on  de  Board  a  good-'nough  old  cullif  d  man  dat  didn't 
know  '  B'  from  a  bull's  foot.  Wai,  our  white  men  'ranges 
de  t'ing  so  dat  dey  counts  our  men  ez  dey  goes  up  ter 
de  box  an'  dey  gibs  out  de  tickets  dereselves.  Now,  dar 
wuz  six  hundred  an'  odd  ob  our  tickets  went  inter  dat  box. 
Dat's  shore.  But  dar  wa'n't  t'ree  hundred  come  out. 
I  pertended  ter  be  drunk,  an'  laid  down  by  de  chimbly 
whar  dar  was  a  peep-hole  inter  dat  room,  an'  seed  dat 
countin'  done.  When  dey  fust  opened  de  box  one  on 
'em  sez,  sez  he, 

'  Lord  God  !  what  a  lot  o'  votes  !'  Den  dey  all 
look  an'  'lloweddar  war  a  heap  mo  'votes  than  dey'd  got 
names.  So  they  all  turned  in  ter  count  de  votes.  Dar 
wuz  two  kinds  on  'em.  One  wuz  little  bits  ob  slick, 
shiny  fellers,  and  de  odclers  jes  common  big  ones. 
When  dey'd  got  'em  all  counted  they  done  some  figurin,' 
an'  sed  dey'd  hev  ter  draw  out  'bout  t'ree  hundred  an' 
fifty  votes.  So  dey  put  'em  all  back  in  clebox,  all  folded 
up  jest  ez  dey  wuz  at  de  start,  an'  den  dey  shuck  it  an' 
shuck  it  an'  shuck  it,  till  it  seemed  ter  me  'em  little  fel 
lers  wuz  boun'  ter  slip  fru  de  bottom.  Den  one  on  'em 
wuz  blindfolded,  an'  he  drew  cuten  de  box  till  he  got 
out  de  right  number — mostly  all  on  'em  de  big  tickets, 
mind  ye,  kase  dey  wuz  on  top,  yer  know.  Den  dey 
count  de  rest  an'  make  up  de  papers,  an'  burns  all  de 
tickets. 

Now  what's  de  use  o'  votin'  agin  dat  ?  I  can't  see 
what  fer  dey  put  de  tickets  in  de  box  at  all.  'Tain't 
half  ez  fa'r  ez  a  lottery  I  seed  one  time  in  Melton  ;  kase 
dar  dey  kep  turnin'  ober  de  wheel,  an'  all  de  tickets 
lied  a  fa'r  show.  No,  Marse  Hesden,  1  nebber  does  no 
mo'  votin'  till  I  t'inks  dai's  a  leetle  chance  o'  habbin' 


500  BKJCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

my  vote  counted  jest  ex  I  drops  it  inter  de  box,  'long 
wid  de  rest.      I  don't  see  no  use  in  it." 

'  You  are  quite  right,  Berry,"  said  Hesden  ;  but  what 
dojw/  say  is  the  reason  you  have  come  away  from  the 
South?" 

"  Jest  kase  a  poor  man  dat  hain't  got  no  larnin'  is 
wuss  off  dar  dan  a  cat  in  hell  widout  claws  ;  he  can't 
fight  ner  he  can't  climb.  I'se  wukked  hard  an'  been 
honest  ebber  sence  de  S'render  an'  I  bed  ter  walk  an' 
beg  my  rations  ter  git  h'yer.*  Dat's  de  reason  !"  said 
Berry,  springing  to  his  feet  and  speaking  excitedly. 

"  Yes,  Berry,  jou  have  been  unfortunate,  but  I  know 
all  are  not  so  badly  off." 

"  Tank  God  fer  dat  !"  said  Berry.  "  Yer  see  I'd  a' 
got'  long  well  'nough  ef  I'd  bed  a  fa'r  shake  an'  bed 
knowd'  all  'bout  de  law,  er  ef  de  law  hadn't  been  made 
ter  cotch  jes  sech  ez  me.  1  didn't  ebber  'spect  nuffin' 
but  jest  a  tollable  libbin',  only  a  bit  ob  larnin,  fer  my 
chillen.  I  tried  mighty  hard,  an'  dis  is  jes  what's  come 
on't.  I  don't  pertend  ter  say  what's  de  matter,  but 
sunthin'  is  wrong,  or  else  sunthin'  hez  been  wrong, 
an'  dis  that  we  hez  now  is  jest  de  fruits  on't— I  dunno 
which.  I  can't  understand  it,  nohow.  I  don't  hate  no 
body,  an'  I  don't  know  ez  dar's  enny  way  out,  but  only 
jes  ter  wait  an'  wait  ez  we  did  in  slave  times  fer  de  good 
time  ter  come.  I  wuz  jes  dat  tuckered  cut  a-tryin,'  dat 
I  t'ought  I'd  come  out  h'yer  an' wait  an' see  ef  I  couldn't 
grow  up  wid  de  kentry,  yer  know.  Yah,  yah  !" 

The  next  morning  the  light-hearted  exodian  departed, 
with  a  ticket  for  Eupolia  and  a  note  to  his  white  fellow- 
fugitive  from  the  evils  which  a  dark  past  has  bequeathed 

*  The  actual  words  used  by  a  colored  man  well-known  to  the 
writer  in  giving  his  reason  for  joining  the  "  exodus,"  in  a  conver 
sation  in  the  depot  at  Kansas  City,  in  February  last. 


WHAT  SHALL    THE  END  BE?  501 

to  the  South — Jordan  Jackson,  now  the  agent  of  Hesden 
and  Mollie  in  the  management  of  their  interests  at  that 
place.  Hesden  and  Mollie  continued  their  homeward 
journey,  stopping  for  a  few  days  in  Washington  on  their 

way. 


CHAPTER   LXI. 

WHAT    SHALL    THE    END    BE  ? 

Two  men  sat  upon  one  of  the  benches  in  the  shade  of 
a  spreading  elm  in  the  shadow  of  the  National  Capitol, 
as  the  sun  declined  toward  his  setting.  They  had  been 
walking  and  talking  as  only  earnest,  thoughtful  men  are 
wont  to  talk.  They  had  forgotten  each  other  and  them 
selves  in  the  endeavor  to  forecast  the  future  of  the 
country  after  a  consideration  of  its  past. 

One  was  tall,  broad,  and  of  full  habit,  with  a  clear  blue 
eye,  high,  noble  forehead,  and  brown  beard  and  hair 
just  beginning  to  be  flecked  with  gray,  and  of  a  light 
complexion  inclining  to  floridness.  He  was  a  magnificent 
type  of  the  Northern  man.  He  had  been  the  shaper  of 
his  own  destiny,  and  had  risen  to  high  position,  with  the 
aid  only  of  that  self-reliant  manhood  which  constitutes 
the  life  and  glory  of  the  great  free  North.  He  was  the 
child  of  the  North-west,  but  his  ancestral  roots  struck 
deep  into  the  rugged  hills  of  New  England.  The  West 
had  made  him  broader  and  fuller  and  freer  than  the  stock 
from  which  he  sprang,  without  impairing  his  earnestness 
of  purpose  or  intensity *of  conviction. 

The  other,  more  slender,  dark,  with  something  of  sal- 
lowness  in  his  sedate  features,  with  hair  and  beard  of  dark 
brown  dinging  close  to  the  finely-chiseled  head  and 


5°2  JJA'SCA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

face,  with  an  empty  sleeve  pinned  across  his  breast, 
showed  more  of  litheness  and  subtlety,  and  scarcely  less 
of  strength,  than  the  one  on  whom  he  gazed,  and  was  an 
equally  perfect  type  of  the  Southern-born  American. 
The  one  was  the  Honorable  Washington  Goodspeed, 
M.C.,  and  the  other  was  Hesden  Le  Moync. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Le  Moyne,"  said  the  former,  after  a  long 
and  thoughtful  pause,  "  is  there  any  remedy  for  these 
things  ?  Can  the  South  and  the  North  ever  be  made  one 
people  in  thought,  spirit,  and  purpose?  It  is  evident 
that  they  have  not  been  in  the  past  ;  can  they  become 
so  in  the  future  ?  Wisdom  and  patriotism  have  thus 
far  developed  no  cure  for  this  evil  ;  they  seem,  indeed,  to 
have  proved  inadequate  to  the  elucidation  of  the  prob 
lem.  Have  you  any  solution  to  offer  ?" 

"I  think,"  replied  Le  Moyne,  speaking  slowly  and 
thoughtfully,  "  that  there  is  a  solution  lying  just  at  our 
hand,  the  very  simplicity  of  which,  perhaps,  has  hitherto 
prevented  us  from  fully  appreciating  its  effectiveness." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Goodspeed,  with  some  eagerness,  4i  and 
what  may  that  be  ?" 

"  Education  !"  was  the  reply. 

*'  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  other,  with  a  smile.  '  You  have 
adopted,  then,  the  Fouith  of  July  remedy  for  all  na 
tional  ills  ?" 

"  If  you  mean  by  '  Fourth  of  July  remedy,'  "  replied 
Hesden  with  some  tartness,  "  that  it  is  an  idea  born 
of  patriotic  feeling  alone,  I  can  most  sincerely  answer, 
Yes.  You  will  please  to  recollect  that  every  bias  of  my 
mind  and  life  has  been  to\vard  the*  Southern  view  of  all 
things.  I  doubt  if  any  man  of  the  North  can  appreciate 
the  full  force  and  effect  of  that  bias  upon  the  minds  and 
hearts  of  those  exposed  to  its  operation.  When  the  war 
ended  I  had  no  reason  or  motive  for  considering  the 


WHAT  SHALL   THE  EXD  BE?  5°3 

question  of  rebuilding  the  national  prosperity  and  power 
upon  a  firmer  and  broader  basis  than  before.  That  was 
left  entirely  to  you  gentlemen  of  the  North.  It  was  not 
until  you,  the  representatives  of  the  national  power,  had 
acted — ay,  it  was  not  until  your  action  had  resulted  in 
apparent  failure — that  1  began  to  consider  this  question 
at  all.  I  did  so  without  any  selfish  bias  or  hope,  beycnd 
that  which  every  man  ought  to  have  in  behalf  of  the  Nation 
which  he  is  a  part,  and  in  which  he  expects  his  children 
to  remain.  So  that  I  think  I  may  safely  say  that  my  idea 
of  the  remedy  does  spring  from  a  patriotism  as  deep  and 
earnest  as  ever  finds  expression  upon  the  national  holi 
day." 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  that,"  was  the  half-apologetic 
rejoinder  ;  "  I  did  not  mean  to  question  your  sincerity 
at  all  ;  but  the  truth  is,  there  has  been  so  much  imprac 
ticable  theorizing  upon  this  subject  that  one  who  looks 
for  results  can  scarcely  restrain  an  expression  of  impa 
tience  when  that  answer  is  dogmatically  given  to  such 
an  inquiry." 

"  Without  entirely  indorsing  your  view  as  to  the  im- 
practicality  of  what  has  been  said  and  written  upon 
this  subject,"  answered  Le  Moyne,  "  I  must  confess 
that  I  have  never  yet  seen  it  formulated  in  a  manner  en 
tirely  satisfactory  to  myself.  For  my  part,  I  am  thor 
oughly  satisfied  that  it  is  not  only  practicable,  but  is  also 
the  sole  practicable  method  of  curing  the  ills  of  which 
we  have  been  speaking.  It  seems  to  me  also  perfectly 
apparent  why  the  remedy  has  not  previously  been  ap 
plied — why  the  patriotism  and  wisdom  of  the  past  has 
failed  to  hit  upon  this  simple  remedy." 

"  Well,  why  was  it  ?" 

'  The  difference  between  the  North  and  the  South  be 
fore  the  war,"  said  Le  Moyne,  "  was  twofold  ;  both  the 


504  FKfCKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

political  and  the  social  organizations  of  the  South  were 
utterly  different  from  those  of  the  North,  and  could 
not  be  harmonized  with  them.  The  characteristics  of 
the  social  organization  you,  in  common  with  the  in 
telligent  masses  of  the  North,  no  doubt  comprehend 
as  fully  and  clearly  as  is  possible  for  one  who  has 
not  personally  investigated  its  phenomena.  Your 
Northern  social  system  was  builded  upon  the  idea  cf 
inherent  equality — that  is,  of  equality  and  opportunity  ; 
so  that  the  only  inequality  which  could  exist  was  that 
which  resulted  from  the  accident  of  wealth  or  differ 
ence  of  capacity  in  the  individual. 

1  The  social  system  of  the  South  was  opposed  to  this 
in  its  very  elements.  At  the  very  outset  it  was  based 
upon  a  wide  distinction,  never  overlooked  or  forgotten 
for  a  single  moment.  Under  no  circumstances  could  a 
colored  man,  of  whatever  rank  or  grade  of  intellectual 
power,  in  any  respect,  for  a  single  instant  overstep  the 
gulf  which  separated  him  from  the  Caucasian,  however 
humble,  impoverished,  or  degraded  the  latter  might  be. 
This  rendered  easy  and  natural  the  establishment  of 
other  social  grades  and  ideas,  which  tended  to  separate 
still  farther  the  Northern  from  the  Southern  social  system. 
The  very  fact  of  the  African  being  thus  degraded  led, 
by  natural  association,  to  the  degradation  of  those  forms 
of  labor  most  frequently  delegated  to  the  slave.  By  this 
means  free  labor  became  gradually  to  be  considered  more 
and  more  disreputable,  and  self-support  to  be  con 
sidered  less  and  less  honorable.  The  necessities  of 
slavery,  as  well  as  the  constantly  growing  pride  of  class, 
tended  very  rapidly  toward  the  subversion  of  free  thought 
and  free  speech  ;  so  that,  even  with  the  white  man  of  any 
and  every  class,  the  right  to  hold  and  express  opinions  dif 
ferent  from  those  entertained  by  the  bulk  of  the  master- 


WHAT  SHALL    THE  EXD  BE?  505 

class  with  reference  to  all  those  subjects  related  to  the 
social  system  of  the  South  soon  came  to  be  questioned, 
and  eventually  utterly  denied.  All  these  facts  the  North 
— that  is,  the  Northern  people,  Northern  statesmen, 
Northern  thinkers — have  comprehended  as  facts.  Their 
influence  and  bearings,  I  may  be  allowed  to  say,  they 
have  little  understood,  because  they  have  not  sufficiently 
realized  their  influence  upon  the  minds  of  those  sub 
jected,  generation  after  generation,  to  their  sway. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  the  wide  difference  between  the 
political  systems  of  the  North  and  the  South  seems  never 
to  have  affected  the  Northern  mind  at  all.  The  Northern 
statesmen  and  political  writers  seem  always  to  have  pro 
ceeded  upon  the  assumption  that  the  removal  of  slavery, 
the  changing  of  the  legal  status  of  the  African,  resulting  in 
the  withdrawal  of  one  of  the  props  which  supported  the 
social  system  of  the  South,  would  of  itself  overthrow  not 
only  that  system,  but  the  political  system  which  had  grown 
up  along  with  it,  and  which  was  skillfully  designed  for  its 
maintenance  and  support.  Of  the  absolute  difference  be 
tween  the  political  systems  of  the  South  and  the  North, 
and  of  the  fact  that  the  social  and  political  systems  stood 
to  each  other  in  the  mutual  relation  of  cause  and  effect, 
the  North  seems  ever  to  have  been  profoundly  ignorant." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Goodspeed,  "  I  must  confess  that  I 
cannot  understand  what  difference  there  is,  except  what 
arose  out  of  slavery." 

"  The  question  is  not,"  said  Le  Moyne,  "  whether  it 
arose  out  of  slavery,  but  whether  it  would  of  necessity  fall 
with  the  extinction  of  slavery  as  a  legal  status.  It  is, 
perhaps,  impossible  for  any  one  to  say  exactly  how  much 
of  the  political  system  of  the  South  grew  out  of  slavery, 
and  how  much  of  slavery  and  its  consequences  were  due 
to  the  Southern  political  system." 


5^6  BKJCA'S   WITHOUT  STRAW. 

"  I  do  not  catch  )our  meaning,"  said  Goodspeed. 
"  Except  for  the  system  of  slavery  and  the  exclusion  of 
the  blacks  from  the  exercise  and  enjoyment  of  pcitical 
rights  and  privileges,  I  cannot  see  that  the  political  system 
of  the  South  differed  materially  from  that  of  the  North." 

"  Precisely  so,"  said  Le  Moyne.  "  Your  inability  to 
perceive  my  meaning  very  clearly  illustrates  to  my  mind 
the  fact  which  I  am  endeavoring  to  impress  upon  you. 
If  you  will  consider  for  a  moment  the  history  of  the 
country,  you  will  observe  that  a  system  prevailed  in  the 
non-slaveholding  States  which  was  unknown,  either  in 
name  or  essential  attributes,  throughout  the  slaveholding 
part  of  the  country." 

'Yes?"  said  the  other  inquiringly.  "What  may 
that  have  been  ?" 

"  In  one  word,"  said  Le  Moyne—"  the  '  township  ' 
system." 

41  Oh,  yes,"  laughed  the  Congressman  lightly  ;  "  the 
Yankee  town-meeting." 

"  Exactly,"  responded  Le  Moyne  ;  "  yet  I  venture  to 
say  that  the  presence  and  absence  of  the  town-meeting — 
the  township  system  or  its  equivalent — in  the  North  and 
in  the  South,  constituted  a  difference  not  less  vital  and 
important  than  that  of  slavery  itself.  In  fact,  sir,  I  sin 
cerely  believe  that  it  is  to  the  township  system  that  the 
North  owes  the  fact  that  it  is  not  to-day  as  much  slave 
territory  as  the  South  was  before  the  war." 

"  What  !"  said  the  Northerner,  with  surprise,  "  you  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  the  North  owes  its  freedom,  its  pros 
perity,  and  its  intelligence — the  three  things  in  which  it 
differs  from  the  South  most  materially — entirely  to  the 
Yankee  town- meeting  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not  entirely,"  said  Le  Moyne  ;  "  but  in  the 
main  I  think  it  does.  And  there  are  certain  facts  con- 


WHAT  SHALL   Till-:  END  BE?  5°7 

riveted  with  our  history  which   I    think,  when   you   con 
sider  them  carefully,  will  incline  you  to  the  same  belief." 

"  Indeed  ;  I  should  be  glad  to  know  them." 
'  The  first  of  these,"  continued  Le  Moyne,  "  is  the 
fact  that  in  every  state  in  which  the  township  system 
really  prevailed,  slavery  was  abolished  without  recourse 
to  arms,  without  civil  discord  or  perceptible  evil  results. 
The  next  is  that  in  the  states  in  which  the  township  sys 
tem  did  not  prevail  in  fact  as  well  as  name,  the  public 
school  system  did  not  exist,  or  had  only  a  nominal  exist 
ence  ;  and  the  proportion  of  illiteracy  in  those  states  as 
a  consequence  was,  among  the  whites  alone,  something 
like  lour  times  as  great  as  in  those  states  in  which  the 
township  system  flourished.  And  this,  too,  notwithstand 
ing  almost  the  entire  bulk  of  the  ignorant  immigration 
from  the  old  world  entered  into  the  composition  of  the 
Northern  populations.  And,  thirdly,  there  resulted 
a  difference  which  I  admit  to  be  composite  in  its  causes 
—that  is,  the  difference  in  average  wealth.  Leaving  out 
of  consideration  the  capital  invested  in  slaves,  the  per 
capita  valuation  of  the  states  having  the  township  system 
was  something  more  than  three  times  the  average  in  those 
where  it  was  unknown." 

"  But  what  reason  can  you  give  for  this  belief  ?  "  said 
Goodspeed.  "How  do  you  connect  with  the  conse 
quences,  which  cannot  be  doubted,  the  cause  you  assign  ? 
The  differences  between  the  South  and  the  North  have 
hitherto  been  attributed  entirely  to  slavery  ;  why  do  you 
say  that  they  are  in  so  great  a  measure  due  to  differences 
of  political  organization  ?" 

"  I  can  very  well  see,"  was  the  reply,  "  that  one 
reared  as  you  were  should  fail  to  understand  at  once 
the  potency  of  the  system  which  has  always  been  to  you 
as  much  a  matter  of  course  as  the  atmosphere  by  which 


508  BR/CKS   II 7  TI10 I'  T  .S  TR.  1  W. 

you  are  surrounded.  It  was  not  until  Harvey's  time — 
indeed,  it  was  not  until  a  much  later  period — that  we 
knew  in  what  way  and  manner  animal  life  was  main 
tained  by  the  inhalation  of  atmospheric  air.  The  fact 
of  its  necessity  was  apparent  to  every  child,  but  how  it 
operated  was  unknown.  1  do  not  now  profess  to  be 
able  to  give  all  of  those  particulars  which  have  made 
the  township  system,  or  its  equivalent,  an  essential  con 
comitant  of  political  equality,  and,  as  I  think,  the  vital 
element  of  American  liberty.  But  I  can  illustrate  it  so 
that  you  will  get  the  drift  of  my  thought." 

"  I  should  be  glad  if  you  would,"  said  Goodspecd. 

"  The  township  system,"  continued  Le  Moyne,  "  may, 
for  the  present  purpose,  be  defined  to  be  the  division  of 
the  entire  territory  of  the  state  into  small  municipalities, 
the  inhabitants  of  which  control  and  manage  for  them 
selves,  directly  and  immediately,  their  own  local  affairs. 
Each  township  is  in  itself  a  miniature  republic,  every 
citizen  of  which  exercises  in  its  affairs  equal  power  with 
every  other  ciiizen.  Each  of  these  miniature  republics 
becomes  a  constituent  element  of  the  higher  representa 
tive  republic — namely,  a  county,  which  is  itself  a  com 
ponent  of  the  still  larger  representative  republic,  the 
State.  It  is  patterned  upon  and  no  doubt  grew  out  oi 
the  less  perfect  borough  systems  of  Europe,  and  those 
inchoate  communes  of  our  Saxon  forefathers  which  were 
denominated  '  Hundreds.'  It  is  the  slow  growth  of  cen 
turies  of  political  experience  ;  the  ripe  fruit  of  ages  of 
liberty-seeking  thought. 

*  The  township  is  the  shield  and  nursery  of  individual 
freedom  of  thought  and  action.  The  young  citizen  who 
has  never  dreamed  of  a  political  career  becomes  inter 
ested  in  some  local  question  affecting  his  individual 
interests.  A  bridge  is  out  of  repair  ;  a  roadmaster  has 


U'JfAT  SHALL    THE  EXD  BE?  509 

failed  to  perform  his  duty  ;  a  constable  has  been  remiss 
in  his  office  ;  a  justice  of  the  peace  has  failed  to  hold 
the  scales  with  even  balance  between  rich  and  poor  ;  a 
school  has  not  been  properly  cared  for  ;  the  funds  of  the 
township  have  been  squandered  ;  or  the  assumption  of  a 
liability  is  proposed  by  the  township  trustees,  the  policy 
of  which  he  doubts.  He  has  the  remedy  in  his  own 
hands.  He  goes  to  the  township  meeting,  or  he  appears 
at  the  town-house  upon  election  day,  and  appeals  to  his 
own  neighbors — those  having  like  interests  with  himself. 
He  engages  in  the  struggle,  hand  to  hand  and  foot  to 
foot  with  his  equals  ;  he  learns  confidence  in  himself  ; 
he  begins  to  measure  his  own  power,  and  fits  himself 
for  the  higher  duties  and  responsibilities  of  statesman 
ship." 

''Well,  well,"  laughed  Goodspeed,  "there  is  some 
thing  in  that.  I  remember  that  my  first  political  expe 
rience  was  in  trying  to  defeat  a  supervisor  who  did  not 
properly  work  the  roads  of  his  district  ;  but  I  had  never 
thought  that  in  so  doing  I  was  illustrating  such  a  doc 
trine  as  you  have  put  forth." 

"  No  ;  the  doctrine  is  not  mine,"  said  Le  Moyne. 
"  Others,  and  especially  that  noted  French  political 
philosopher  who  so  calmly  and  faithfully  investigated 
our  political  system  —  the  author  cf  'Democracy  in 
Ameiica' — clearly  pointed  out,  many  years  ago,  the  ex 
ceptional  value  of  this  institution,  and  attributed  to  it 
the  superior  intelligence  and  prosperity  of  the  North." 

"  Then,"  was  the  good-natured  reply,  "  your  prescrip 
tion  for  the  political  regeneration  of  the  South  is  the 
same  as  -that  which  we  all  laughed  at  as  coming  from 
Horace  preeley  immediately  upon  the  downfall  of  the 
Confederacy — that  the  Government  should  send  an  army 
of  surveyors  to  the  South  to  lay  off  the  land  in  sections 


5»o  BRICK'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  quarter-sections,  establish  parallel  roads,  and  en 
force  topographic  uniformity  upon  the  nation  ? 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Le  Moyne.  "  I  think  that  the  use 
of  the  term  '  township  '  in  a  double  sense  has  misled 
our  political  thinkers  in  estimating  its  value.  It  is  by  no 
means  necessary  that  the  township  of  the  United  States 
survey  should  be  arbitrarily  established  in  every  state. 
In  fact,  the  township  system  really  finds  its  fullest  de 
velopment  where  such  a  land  division  does  not  prevail, 
as  in  New  England,  Pennsylvania,  and  other  states. 
It  is  the  people  that  require  to  be  laid  off  in  town 
ships,  not  the  land.  Arkansas,  Missouri,  Alabama,  all 
have  their  lands  laid  off  in  the  paralltlograms  prescribed 
by  the  laws  regulating  United  States  surveys  ;  but  their 
people  are  not  organized  into  self-governing  communes." 

"  But  was  there  no  equivalent  system  of  local  self- 
government  in  those  states  ?" 

"  No  ;  and  there  is  not  to-day.  In  seme  cases  there 
are  lame  approaches  to  it  ;  but  in  none  of  the  former 
slave  States  were  the  counties  made  up  of  self-governing 
subdivisions.  The  South  is  to-day  and  always  has  been 
a  stranger  to  local  self-government.  In  many  of  those 
states  every  justice  of  the  peace,  every  school  commit- 
teeman,  every  inspector  of  elections  is  appointed  by  some 
central  power  in  the  county,  which  is  in  turn  itself  ap 
pointed  either  by  the  Chief  Executive  of  the  State  or  by 
the  dominant  party  in  the  Legislature.  There  may  be 
the  form  of  townships,  but  the  differential  characteristic 
is  lacking — the  self-governing  element  of  the  township." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  fully  comprehend  you,"  said 
Goodspeed.  "  Please  illustrate." 

"  Well,  take  one  state  for  an  example,  where  the  con 
stitution  adopted  during  the  reconstruction  period  intro 
duced  the  township  system,  and  authorized  the  electois  of 


HO  W?  5 1 1 

each  township  to  choose  their  justices  of  the  peace,  con 
stables,  school-committeemen,  and  other  local  officials. 
It  permitted  the  people  of  the  county  to  choose  a  board 
of  commissioners,  who  should  administer  the  financial 
matters  of  the  county,  and,  in  some  instances,  exercise  a 
limited  judicial  authority.  But  now  they  have,  in  effect, 
returned  to  the  old  system.  The  dominant  party  in  the 
Legislature  appoints  every  justice  of  the  peace  in  the 
state.  The  justices  of  the  peace  of  each  county  elect 
from  their  number  the  county  commissioners  ;  the  county 
commissioners  appoint  the  school-committeemen,  the 
roadmasters,  the  registrars  of  election  and  the  judges  of 
election  ;  so  that  every  local  interest  throughout  the  en 
tire  state  is  placed  under  the  immediate  power  and 
control  of  the  dominant  party,  although  not  a  tenth  part 
of  the  voters  of  any  particular  township  or  county  may 
belong  to  that  party.  In  another  state  all  this  power, 
and  even  more,  is  exercised  by  the  Chief  Executive  ;  and 
in  all  of  them  you  will  find  that  the  county— or  its  equiv 
alent,  the  parish — is  the  smallest  political  unit  having  a 
municipal  character." 


CHAPTER    LXII. 

HOW  ? 

THERE  was  a  moment  of  silence,  after  which  the  North 
ern  man  said  thoughtfully, 

"  I  think  I  understand  your  views,  Mr.  Le  Moyne, 
and  must  admit  that  both  the  facts  and  the  deductions 
which  you  make  from  them  are  very  interesting,  full 
of  food  for  earnest  reflection,  and,  for  aught  I  know, 


5*-  />  AVrA'.V   II 7 7 7/0 1'T  S TRA  llr, 

may  fully  bear  out  your  view  of  their  effects.  Still,  I 
cannot  see  that  your  remedy  for  this  slate  of  affairs 
differs  materially  in  its  practicability  from  that  of  the  de 
parted  philosopher  of  Chappaqua.  He  prescribed  a  divi 
sion  of  the  lands,  while,  if  I  understand  you,  you  would 
have  the  GovernmenT  in  some  way  prescribe  and  con 
trol  the  municipal  organizations  of  the  people  cf  the 
various  states.  I  cannot  see  what  power  the  National 
Government  has,  or  any  branch  of  it,  which  could  effect 
uate  that  result." 

"It  can  only  be  done  as  it  was  done  at  the  North," 
said  Le  Moyne  quietly. 

"  Weil,  I  declare  !"  said  Goodspeed,  with  r,n  out 
burst  of  laughter,"  your  riddle  grows  worse  and  worse — 
more  and  more  insoluble  to  my  mind.  How,  pray,  was  it 
done  at  the  North  ?  I  always  thought  we  got  it  from 
colonial  times.  I  am  sure  the  New  England  town-meet 
ing  came  over  in  the  Mayflower." 

"So  it  did  !"  responded  Hesdon,  springing  to  his 
feet  ;  "  so  it  did  ;  it  came  over  in  the  hearts  of  men  who 
demanded,  and  were  willing  to  give  up  everything  else 
to  secure  the  right  of  local  self-government.  The  little 
colony  upon  the  Mayflower  was  a  township,  and  every 
man  of  its  passengers  carried  the  seed  of  the  ideal  town 
ship  system  in  his  heart." 

"Admitted,  admitted,  Mr.  Le  Moync,"  said  the 
other,  smiling  at  his  earnestness.  "  But  how  shall  we 
repeat  the  experiment  ?  Would  you  import  men  into 
every  township  of  the  South,  in  order  that  they  might 
carry  the  seeds  of  civil  liberty  with  them,  and  build  up 
the  township  system  there  ?" 

"  By  no  means.  I  would  make  the  men  on  the  spot. 
I  would  so  mold  the  minds  of  evcrv  class  cf  the  South- 


now?  513 

ern    people  that  all  should    be   indoctrinated   with    the 
spirit  of  local  self-government." 

"  But  how  would  you  do  it  ?" 

"  With  spelling-books  !"  answered  Hesden  senten- 
tiously. 

"There  we  are,"  laughed  the  other,  "at  the  very 
point  we  started  from.  Like  the  poet  of  the  Western  bar 
room,  you  may  well  say,  my  friend,  '  And  so  I  end  as  I 
did  begin.'  ' 

'Yes,"  said  Le  Moyne,  "we  have  considered  the 
desirability  of  education,  and  you  have  continually  cried, 
with  good-natured  incredulity,  *  How  shall  it  be  done  ? ' 
Are  you  not  making  that  inquiry  too  soon  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Congressman  earnestly  ;  "  I  see 
how  desirable  is  the  result,  and  I  am  willing  to  do  any 
thing  in  my  power  to  attain  it,  if  there  is  any  means  by 
which  it  can  be  accomplished." 

"  That  is  it,"  said  Le  Moyne  ;  "  you  are  willing ;  you 
recognize  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  ;  you  wish  it 
might  be  done  ;  you  have  no  desire  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  its  accomplishment.  That  is  not  the  spirit  which 
achieves  results.  Nothing  is  accomplished  by  mere  as 
sent.  The  American  people  must  first  be  thoroughly 
satisfied  that  it  is  a  necessity.  The  French  may  shout 
over  a  red  cap,  and  overturn  existing  systems  for  a  vague 
idea  ;  but  American  conservatism  consists  in  doing  noth 
ing  until  it  is  absolutely  necessary.  We  never  move 
until  the  fifty-ninth  minute  of  the  eleventh  hour. 

"  Only  think  of  it  !  You  fought  a  rebellion,  based 
professedly  upon  slavery  as  a  corner-stone,  for  almost 
two  years  before  you  could  bring  yourselves  to  disturb 
that  corner-stone.  You  knew  the  structure  would  fall  if 
that  were  done  ;  but  the  American  people  waited  and 


5*4  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

waited  until  every  man  was  fully  satisfied  that  there  was 
no  other  possible  road  to  success.  It  is  just  so  in  this 
matter.  I  feel  its  necessity.  You  do  not.' 

4  There  I  think  you  do  me  injustice,"  said  Good- 
speed,  "  I  feel  the  necessity  of  educating  every  citizen  of 
the  Republic,  as  well  as  you." 

"  No  doubt,  in  a  certain  vague  way,"  was  the  reply  ; 
"  but  you  do  not  feel  it  as  the  only  safety  to  the  Repub 
lic  to-day  ;  and  I  do.' 

"  I  confess  I  do  not  see,  as  you  seem  to,  the  immedi 
ate  advantage,  or  the  immediate  dange^  more  than  that 
which  has  always  threatened  us,"  answered  the  Congress 
man. 

"  This,  after  all,  is  the  real  danger,  I  think,"  said  Le 
Moyne.  "  The  states  containing  only  one  third  of  the 
population  of  this  Union  contain  also  more  than  two 
thirds  of  its  entire  illiteracy.  Twenty-five  out  of  every 
hundred — one  out  of  every  four — of  the  white  voters  of 
the  former  slave  states  cannot  read  the  ballots  which  they 
cast  ;  forty-five  per  cent  of  the  entire  voting  strength 
of  those  sixteen  states  are  unable  to  read  or  write." 

"Well?"  said  the  other  calmly,  seeing  Le  Moyne 
look  at  him  as  though  expecting  him  to  show  surprise. 

'  Well  /"  said  Le  Moyne.  "  I  declare  your  Northern 
phlegm  is  past  my  comprehension.  '  Well,'  indeed  !  it 
seems  to  me  as  bad  as  bad  can  be.  Only  think  of  it — 
only  six  per  cent  of  intelligence  united  with  this  illiterate 
vote  makes  a  majority  !" 

"  Well  ?"  was  the  response  again,  still  inquiringly. 

41  And  that  majority,"  continued  Le  Moyne,  "  would 
choose  seventy-two  per  cent  of  the  electoral  voles  neces 
sary  to  name  a  President  of  the  United  States  !" 

"  Well,"  said  the  other,  with  grim  humor,  "  they  are 
not  very  likely  to  do  it  at  present,  anyhow." 


now?  515 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Le  Moyne.  "  But  there  is  still 
the  other  danger,  and  the  greater  evil.  That  same  forty- 
five  per  cent  are  of  course  easily  made  the  subjects  of 
fraud  or  violence,  and  we  face  this  dilemma  :  they  may 
either  use  their  power  wrongfully,  or  be  wrongfully  de 
prived  of  the  exercise  of  their  bailotorial  rights.  Either 
alternative  is  alike  dangerous.  If  we  suppose  the  illite 
rate  voter  to  be  either  misled  or  intimidated,  or  prevented 
from  exercising  his  judgment  and  his  equality  of  right 
with  others  in  the  control  of  our  government,  then  we 
have  the  voice  of  this  forty-five  per  cent  silenced — whether 
by  intimidation  or  by  fraud  matters  not.  Then  a  ma 
jority  of  the  remaining  fifty-four  per  cent,  or,  say,  twenty- 
eight  per  cent  of  one  third  of  the  population  of  the  Nation 
in  a  little  more  than  one  third  of  the  States,  might  exercise 
seventy-two  per  cent  of  the  electoral  power  necessary  to 
choose  a  President,  and  a  like  proportion  of  the  legisla 
tive  power  necessary  to  enact  laws.  Will  the  time  ever 
come,  my  friend,  when  it  will  be  safe  to  put  in  the  way 
of  any  party  such  a  temptation  as  is  presented  by  this 
opportunity  to  acquire  power  ?" 

"  No,  no,  no,"  said  the  Northern  man,  with  impa 
tience.  "  But  what  can  you  do  ?  Education  will  not 
make  men  honest,  or  patriotic,  or  moral." 

"  True  enough,"  was  the  reply.  "  Nor  will  the 
knowledge  of  toxicology  prevent  the  physician  from  be 
ing  a  poisoner,  or  skill  in  handwriting  keep  a  man 
from  becoming  a  forger.  But  the  study  of  toxicology 
will  enable  the  physician  to  save  life,  and  the  study  of 
_  handwriting  is  a  valuable  means  of  preventing  the  results 
of  wrongful  acts.  So,  while  education  does  not  make 
the  voter  honest,  it  enables  him  to  protect  himself  against 
the  frauds  of  others,  and  not  only  increases  his  power 
but  inspires  him  to  resist  violence.  So  that,  in  the 


516  BXICA'S  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

aggregate,  you  Northerners  are  right  in  the  boast  which 
you  make  that  intelligence  makes  a  people  stronger  and 
braver  and  freer." 

"  So  your  remedy  is — "  began  the  other. 

"  Not  my  remedy,  but  the  only  remedy,  is  to  educate 
the  people  until  they  shall  be  wise  enough  to  know  what 
they  ought  to  do,  and  brave  enough  and  strong  enough 
to  do  it." 

"Oh,  that  is  all  well  enough,  if  it  could  be  done," 
said  Goodspeed. 

"Therefore  it  is,"  returned  Hesden,  "that  it  must 
be  done." 

"But  /i<ra>  ?"  said  the  other  querulously.  'You 
know  that  the  Constitution  gives  the  control  of  such  mat 
ters  entirely  to  the  States.  The  Nation  cannot  interfere 
with  it.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  States  to  educate  their  cit 
izens — a  clear  and  imperative  duty  ;  but  if  they  will  not 
do  it  the  Nation  cannot  compel  them." 

4  Yes,"  said  Hesden,  "  I  know.  For  almost  a  century 
you  said  that  about  slavery  ;  and  you  have  been  trying 
to  hunt  a  way  of  escape  from  your  enforced  denial  of  it 
ever  since.  But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  when  you  came  to 
the  last  ditch  and  found  no  bridge  across,  you  simply 
made  one.  When  it  became  an  unavoidable  question 
whether  the  Union  or  slavery  should  live,  you  chose  the 
Union.  The  choice  may  come  between  the  Union  and 
ignorance  ;  and  if  it  does,  I  have  no  fear  as  to  which  the 
people  will  choose.  The  doctrine  of  State  Rights  is  a 
beautiful  thing  to  expatiate  upon,  but  it  has  been  the 
root  of  nearly  all  the  evil  the  country  has  suffered. 
However,  I  believe  that  this  remedy  can  at  once  be 
applied  without  serious  inconvenience  from  that  source." 

"  How  ?"  asked  the  other  ;  "  that  is  what  I  want  to 
know." 


HOW?  517 

"  Understand  me,"  said  Le  Moyne  ;  "  I  do  not  con 
sider  the  means  so  important  as  the  end.  When  the 
necessity  is  fully  realized  the  means  will  be  discovered  ; 
but  I  believe  that  we  hold  the  clue  even  now  in  our 
hands." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?"  was  the  impatient  inquiry. 

"  A  fund  of  about  a  million  dollars,"  said  Le  Moyne, 
"  has  already  been  distributed  to  free  public  schools  in 
the  South,  upon  a  system  which  does  not  seriously  inter 
fere  with  the  jealously-guarded  rights  of  those  states." 

"  You  mean  the  Peabody  Fund  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  do  refer  to  that  act  of  unparalleled  benefi 
cence  and  wisdom." 

"  But  that  was  not  the  act  of  the  Nation." 

"  Very  true  ;  but  why  should  not  the  Nation  distribute 
a  like  bounty  upon  the  same  system  ?  It  is  admitted, 
beyond  serious  controversy,  that  the  Nation  may  raise  and 
appropriate  funds  for  such  purposes  among  the  different 
states,  provided  it  be  not  for  the  exclusive  benefit  of  any 
in  particular.  It  is  perhaps  past  controversy  that  the 
Government  might  distribute  a  fund  to  the  different 
states  in  the  proportion  of  illiteracy.  This,  it  is  true, 
would  give  greater  amounts  to  certain  states  than  to 
others,  but  only  greater  in  proportion  to  the  evil  to  be 
remedied." 

'  Yes,"  said  the  other  ;  "  but  the  experience  of  the 
Nation  in  distributing  lands  and  funds  for  educational 
purposes  has  not  been  encouraging.  The  results  have 
hardly  been  commensurate  with  the  investment." 

'  That  is  true,"  said  Hesden,  "  and  this  is  why  I  in 
stance  the  Peabody  Fund.  That  is  not  given  into  the 
hands  of  the  officers  of  the  various  states,  but  when  a 
school  is  organized  and  fulfills  the  requirements  laid  down 
for  the  distribution  of  that  fund,  in  regard  to  numbers 


518  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

and  average  attendance — in  other  words,  is  shown  to  be 
an  efficient  institution  of  learning — then  the  managers  of 
the  fund  give  to  it  a  sum  sufficient  to  defray  a  certain 
proportion  of  its  expenses." 

"  And  you  think  such  a  system  might  be  applied  to  a 
Government  appropriation  ?" 

'*  Certainly.  The  amount  to  which  the  county,  town 
ship,  or  school  district  would  be  entitled  might  be  easily 
ascertained,  and  upon  the  organization  and  maintenance 
of  a  school  complying  with  the  reasonable  requirements  of 
a  well-drawn  statute  in  regard  to  attendance  and  instruc 
tion,  such  amount  might  be  paid  over." 

44  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  after  a  thoughtful  pause  ;  "  but 
would  not  that  necessitate  a  National  supervision  of  State 
schools?" 

"  To  a  certain  extent,  yes.  Yet  there  would  be  noth 
ing  compulsory  about  it.  It  would  only  be  such  inspec 
tion  as  would  be  necessary  to  determine  whether  the  ap 
plicant  had  entitled  himself  to  share  the  Nation's  bounty. 
Surely  the  Nation  may  condition  its  own  bounty." 

44  But  suppose  these  states  should  refuse  to  submit  to 
such  inspection,  or  accept  such  appropriation  ?" 

44  That  is  the  point,  exactly,  to  which  I  desire  to  bring 
your  attention,"  said  Le  Moyne.  "Ignorance,  unless 
biased  by  religious  bigotry,  always  clamors  for  knowl 
edge.  You  could  well  count  upon  the  forty-five  per  cent 
of  ignorant  voters  insisting  upon  the  reception  of  that 
bounty.  The  number  of  those  that  recognize  the  neces 
sity  of  instructing  the  ignorant  voter,  even  in  those  states, 
is  hourly  increasing,  and  but  a  brief  time  would  ebpse 
until  no  party  would  dare  to  risk  opposition  to  such  a 
course.  I  doubt  whether  any  party  would  venture  upon 
it,  even  now." 

44  But  are  not  its  results  too  remote,  Mr.  Le  Moyne, 


HO  IV?  519 

to  make  such  a  measure  of  present  interest  in  the  cure 
of  present  evils  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Hesden.  "  By  such  a  meas 
ure  you  bring  the  purest  men  of  the  South  into  close  and 
intimate  relations  with  the  Government.  You  cut  off 
the  sap  which  nourishes  the  yet  living  root  of  the  State 
Rights  dogma.  You  bring  every  man  to  feel  as  you  feel, 
that  there  is  something  greater  and  grander  than  his  State 
and  section.  Besides  that,  you  draw  the  poison  from 
the  sting  which  rankles  deeper  than  you  think.  The 
Southern  white  man  feels,  and  justly  feels,  that  the  bur 
den  of  educating  the  colored  man  ought  not  to  be  laid 
upon  the  South  alone.  He  says  truly,  '  The  Nation 
fostered  and  encouraged  slavery  ;  it  gave  it  greater 
protection  and  threw  greater  safeguards  around  it  than 
any  other  kind  of  property  ;  it  encouraged  my  ancestors 
and  myself  to  invest  the  proceeds  of  generations  of  care 
and  skill  and  growth  in  slaves.  When  the  war  ended  it 
not  only  at  one  stroke  dissipated  all  these  accumulations, 
but  it  also  gave  to  these  men  the  ballot,  and  would  now 
drive  me,  for  my  own  protection,  to  provide  for  their  ed 
ucation.  This  is  unjust  and  oppressive.  I  will  not  do 
it,  nor  consent  that  it  shall  be  done  by  my  people  or  by 
our  section  alone.'  To  such  a  man — and  there  are  many 
thousands  of  them — such  a  measure  would  come  as  an  act 
of  justice.  It  would  be  a  grateful  balm  to  his  outraged 
feelings,  and  would  incline  him  to  forget,  much  more 
readily  than  he  otherwise  would,  what  he  regards  to  be 
the  injustice  of  emancipation.  It  will  lead  him  to  con 
sider  whether  he  has  not  been  wrong  in  supposing  that 
the  emancipation  and  enfranchisement  of  the  blacks  pro 
ceeded  from  a  feeling  of  resentment,  and  was  intended 
as  a  punishment  merely.  It  will  incline  him  to  consider 
whether  the  people  of  the  North,  the  controlling  power 


520  BRICKS  WITHOUT  STRAW. 

of  the  Government  at  that  time,  did  not  act  from  a  better 
motive  than  he  has  given  them  credit  for.  But  even  if 
this  plan  should  meet  with  disapproval,  instead  of  ap 
proval,  from  the  white  voters  of  the  South,  it  would  still 
be  the  true  and  wise  policy  for  the  Nation  to  pursue." 

"  So  you  really  think,"  said  the  Northerner  dubiously, 
"  that  such  a  measure  would  produce  good  results  even 
in  the  present  generation  ?" 

Unquestionably,"  was  the  reply.  "  Perhaps  the 
chief  incentive  to  the  acts  which  have  disgraced  our  civ 
ilization — which  have  made  the  white  people  of  the  South 
almost  a  unit  in  opposing  by  every  means,  lawful  and  un 
lawful,  the  course  of  the  Government  in  reconstruction, 
has  been  a  deep  and  bitter  conviction  that  hatred,  envy, 
and  resentment  agiinst  them  on  the  part  of  the  North, 
were  the  motives  which  prompted  those  acts.  Such  a 
measure,  planned  upon  a  liberal  scale,  would  be  a  vin 
dication  of  the  manhood  of  the  North  ;  an  assertion  of 
its  sense  of  right  as  well  as  its  determination  to  develop 
at  the  South  the  same  intelligence,  the  same  freedom  of 
thought  and  action,  the  same  equality  of  individual  right, 
that  have  made  the  North  prosperous  and  free  and 
strong,  while  the  lack  of  them  has  made  the  South  poor 
and  ignorant  and  weak." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  Congressman  seriously,  "  you 
may  be  right.  I  had  never  thought  of  it  quite  in  that 
light  before.  It  is  worth  thinking  about,  my  friend  ;  it  is 
worth  thinking  about." 

'  That  it  is  !"  said  Le  Moyne,  joyfully  extending  his 
hand.  "Think  !  If  you  will  only  think — if  the  free 
people  of  the  North  will  only  think  of  this  matter,  I  have 
no  fears  but  a  solution  will  be  found.  Mine  may  not  be 
the  right  one.  That  is  no  matter.  As  I  said,  the  ques 
tion  of  method  is  entirely  subordinate  to  the  result.  But 


HOW?  521 

let  the  people  think,  and  they  will  think  rightly.  Don't 
think  of  it  as  a  politician  in  the  little  sense  of  that 
word,  but  in  the  great  one.  Don't  try  to  compel  the  Na 
tion  to  accept  your  view  or  mine  ;  but  spur  the  national 
thought  by  every  possible  means  to  consider  the  evil,  to 
demand  its  cure,  and  to  devise  a  remedy." 
With  this,  these  earnest  men  parted. 


Day  by  day,  the  "  irrepressible  conflict"  is  renewed. 
The  Past  bequeaths  to  the  Present  its  wondrous  legacy 
of  good  and  ill.  Names  are  changed,  but  truths  re 
main.  The  soil  which  slavery  claimed,  baptized  with 
blood  becomes  the  Promised  Land  of  the  freedrnan  and 
poor  white.  The  late  master  wonders  at  the  mockery  of 
Fate.  Ignorance  marvels  at  the  power  of  Knowledge. 
Love  overleaps  the  barriers  of  prejudice,  and  Faith  laughs 
at  the  Impossible. 

"  The  world  goes  up  and  the  world  goes  down, 

The  sunshine  follows  the  rain  ; 
And  yesterday's  sneer  and  yesterday's  frown 
Can  never  come  over  again." 

On  the  trestle-board  of  the  Present,  Liberty  forever 
sets  before  the  Future  some  new  query.  The  Wise-man 
sweats  drops  of  blood.  The  Greatheart  abides  in  his 
strength.  The  King  makes  commandment.  The  Fool 
laughs. 


A  FOOL'S  ERRAND. 

A    NO  I' EL. 

BY  ONE  OF  THE  FOOLS. 

Handsome  i2mo,  with  Side  Stamp.     .     .     .     Cloth,  $i. 

AKOUT  once  in  a  generation  appears  a  book  that  is  at  once 
and  universally  accepted  as  a  marked  element  in  the  life  and 
literature  of  the  world.  Such  a  work,  at  the  close  of  the  Seven 
teenth  Century,  was  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  one  of  the 
best-known  books  of  human  origin.  In  the  Eighteenth  Century, 
a  period  of  much  cultivated  talent  but  little  genius,  De  Foe's 
"Strange  Adventures  of  Robinson  Crusoe"  startled  the  reading 
public  with  a  narrative  so  apparently  real  that  it  was  received 
with  intense  enthusiasm  as  truth,  and  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  has  remained  one  of  the  unfading  English  classics.  In 
our  own  more  fertile  age,  Walter  Scott's  "  Waverley"  first  burst 
ihe  bonds  of  stilted  fiction  and  created  the  historical  novel ;  about 
thirty  years  later  Mrs.  Stowe's  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  aroused 
the  world  with  indignation  over  the  wrongs  of  a  race,  and  inau 
gurated  the  novel  with  a  purpose.  And  now,  thirty  years  later, 
appears  another  book,  "A  FOOL'S  ERRAND,  BY  ONE  OF  THE 
FOOLS,"  which  has  seized  upon  the  popular  imagination  and  run 
through  edition  after  edition,  as  fast  as  it  could  be  printed.  It  is 
the  marked  book  of  this  generation. 

u  If  this  hook  don't  move  men,  and  "The  story  will  be  read  with  breath- 
start  the  patriotic  blood  of  the  nation  less  interest." — Hartford  (Conn.)  Cott- 
into  warmer  flow,  then  we  have  mis-  rant. 

taken  the  American  people."— CAtfttfB  "What  is  most  remarkable  about  the 

Inter-Ocean.  book  is  the  spirit  of  fairness  that  per- 

,      ...                        ,  vades  it." — Philadelphia  Times. 

Abounds    in    sketches    not    to    be  .                        ' 

matched  in  the  whole  range  of  modern  "It  is  rare   to  find  an  author,  with 

fiction.     The  author's  keen  insight  into  wrongs  before  him  like  those  which  are 

character    gives    him    a    power    which  portrayed    in      A    Fool  s  Errand,     who 

never   relaxes    to   the   end  ;    while   his  has  the  courage  to  turn,  so  clearly  as 

skill  in  dialogue  and  humorous  touches  he  does,  the  best  side  of  the  wrong-doer 

add  greatly  to  the  charm  of  the  story.11  before  one.     .  _  .     ._    It  is,  as  we  have 

Boston  Traveller.  said,  for    its    historical   value    that    the 

book  will  be  read,  but  the  causes  which 

"  A  political  and  social  study    .     .     .  have    made   it   worth   reading _  on    this 

which    is   pursued   with   great   candor,  side  have  conspired  to  render  it  also  a 

and    no    sma  1    discrimination." — The  strong  piece  of  novel-work." — Atlantic 

Nation  (N.  Y.~).  Monthly. 

FORDS,   HOWARD   &  HULBERT, 

27   Park   Place, 

NEW    YORK. 


THE  STORY  OF  AN  EARNEST  MAN. 

FiGSTND  THISTLES: 

A  Romance  of  the  Western  Reserve, 
BY  ALBION  W.  TOURGEE, 

Author  of  "  A  Fool's  Errand." 

i2/;/6>,  Cloth,  Handsome  Side  Stamp.     .     .     Price,  81.50. 
\rrnr  FRONTISPIECE. 

TIIF,  pen  which  so  vividly  portrayed  the  moral  and  political 
status  of  the  South  in  "A  Fool's  Errand"  has  not  less  graphically 
delineated  in  "  Figs  and  Thistles"  the  social  and  moral  atmos 
phere  of  the  Western  Reserve,  where  GKNKRAL  GARFIEI.D  was 
born  and  reared.  To  appreciate  the  life  and  character  of  him 
who  may  be  the  next  President  of  the  United  States,  every  one 
should  read  this  book.  He  is  simply  an  outgrowth  of  the  life 
there  described.  Indeed,  if  some  shrewd  critics  may  be  trusted, 
the  barefoot  boy,  student,  lawyer,  colonel,  general,  Congress 
man,  Senator,  and  possibly  President,  may  be  discovered  in  even 
more  intimate  relations  with  the  scheme  of  this  novel.  No 
American  can  afF>rd  to  be  without  this  vivid  picture  of  the 
home  of  Wade  and  Giddings  and  Garlield  and  the  civilization 
from  which  they  spring. 

One  of  the  striking  features  of  Judge  Tonrgec's  works,  and 
one  which  has  done  much  to  give  his  "Fool's  Errand"  its  vast 
popularity,  is  his  intense  realism  and  strong  sense  of  local  color 
ing.  "  Figs  and  Thistles"  has  been  very  generally  described  by 
the  press  as  an  "Ohio  book,"  "  a  Western  Reserve  romance." 
"the  Western  Reserve  in  romantic  miniature."  etc.  M.iny  de 
clare  that  so  life-like  is  the  portraiture,  that  the  rnodeU  of  tho 
characters,  although,  of  course  (and  very  properly),  not  to  be 
identified  in  all  incidents  of  their  careers,  can  easily  be  distin 
guished. 

OP/WOKS   OF    THE  PRESS. 

"It   is,  we   ihink,   evident    that    the  "  Tonrjf  e  is  undoubtedly  the  chief 

hero    of   the   book    is    the    Republican  of   American    writers." — Troy    Stnti- 

candidate  for  President,  Gen.  JAMBS  A.  nel. 
pAKFfKi.i).     The  author  has  indulged 

in  the  novelist's  license,  and  the  story  "Close  observers  of  our  political  his- 

is  nit,  of  course,  a  biography.     I'm  the  tory  will  not  he  at  a  loss  to  discover 

author  evide  itly  mo-lcls  the  career  of  the  originals  from  whom  the  author  has 

his  hero  upon    the  life    of  Gen.   (>AK-  drawn     his     charactC'S." — Burlington 

FIELD.     The  book  is  worth  reading  for  Free  Press  and  Times. 
it>elf,  but  the  fact  we  have  stated  makes 

it  an  imiiMi.illy  attractive  volume.  It  "  Tt  is  a  representative  American 
is,  in  m  my  respects,  one  of  the  best  novel,  and  deals  with  characters  en- 
bonks  of  the  period." — A  tckison  {Kan.)  tircly  new  an  i  fresh,  but  altogether 
Champion.  real."— Hartford  Courant. 

FOltDS,  HOWARD  &  HULBEItT,  Publishers, 

27   Park  Place,  New  York. 


CHEVALIER    WIKOFF'S 

REMINISCENCES  OF  AN  IDLER, 

BY  HENRY   WTKOFF, 
Author  of  "  My  Courtship  and  its  Consequctues."  "Adventures  of  a 

Roving   Diplomatist"  etc.,  etc. 
604  pp.,  Octavo.    Steel   Portrait.     Price,  $1.75. 


Mr.  Wikoff  (who  bears    the    title   of    ; 
'Chevalier'  as  Knight    Commander    : 
of  a   Spanish   order — an   honor  con-    I 
fered  in  recognition  of  some  skillful    I 
service  to  royalty)  has  been  a  familiar 
figure   for  more  than   forty  years  in 
Europe  and  America,  and  his  '  Rem- 
iniscences '   deal  with    almost  every 
body  of  note  that  anybody  ever  heard 
of."— Literary  World. 
The  charm  of  this  book,  which  blends 
autobiography  with  reminiscences  of 
noted  persons,  and  not  a  little  rapid 
and  interesting    history,  is  that  it  is 
written  in  a  simple,  good  way,  and 
never  presents  us  with  an   anecdote 
or  a  reminiscence  that  is  not  interest 
ing.    The  '  Chevalier  '  is  never  dull." 
— Hartford  Times. 
Has  at  once  taken  its  place  among  the 
most  racy  of  recent  memoirs.     .     .     . 


Being  a  man  of  fortune  and  excellent 
social  position,  his  opportunities  for 
observation  have  evidently  been  un 
usually  good,  and  his  use  of  them  is 
proved  by  his  very  readable  book  to 
have  been  both  apt  and  admirable." 
--Buffalo  Courier. 

The  Chevalier  Wikoff's  charming 
4  Reminiscences  of  an  Idler  '  met  with 
a  flattering  reception  from  the  critics, 
who  did  not  know  just  what  to  look 
for.  and  were  evidently  belter  pleased 
than  they  had  expected  to  be.  The 
readme  public  are  interested  to  see 
througn  the  eyes  of  an  educated  and 
cultured  American  gentleman  scenes 
and  characters  for  which  they  have 
hitherto  been  mainly  dependent  upon 
foreign  sources."  —  Christian  Re 
corder. 


8    Famous   Booh  of   Poetry. 


THE  FAMILY  LIBRARY  OF  POETRY  AND  SONG. 


Bring  1500  Selections  from  500  of  the  best  Poets,  English,  Scott 
A  tnerican,  inciitding  translations  Jrom  A  ncient  and  Mi 
Languages.     Carefully  revised,  and  printed 
handsomely  from  entirely  new  plates. 


h,  Irish  and 

Modern 


With  an  Introductory  Treatise  by  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 
on  the  "  Poets  and  Poetry  of  the  English  Language."  Including 
JAMES  GRANT  WILSON'S  New  Biography  of  Bryant.  1000  pp. 
8vo.  With  full  indexes  of  the  Poems  by  authors  and  by  first 
lines,  and  an  elaborate  Index  of  Quotations  by  which  any  poetical 
quotation,  of  which  the  volume  contains  all  that  are  recognized 
as  famous,  can  be  readily  found.  Illustrated  with  a  new  Steel 
Portrait  of  Mr.  Bryant,  many  Autographic  Fac-Sirniles  of  Cele 
brated  Poets,  and  Sixteen  Full-page  Wood  Engravings.  Cloth, 
Gilt,  $5  ;  Library  Leather,  $6  ;  Half  Morocco  Gilt,  $7.50  ;  Turkey 
Morocco,  $10.  (Subscription.} 


"We  know  of  no  similar  collection  in 
the  English  language  which,  in  copi 
ousness  and  felicity  of  selection  and 
arrangement,  can  at  all  compare  with 
it."-Ar.  Y.  Times. 

"  With  all  Mr.  Bryant's  contributions 
to  poetry  and  social  science,  we  doubt 
if  he  has  done  one  service  greater 
than  the  collection  of  this  admira 
ble  book  of  poetry.  — Cincinnati 
Christian  Standard. 


While  Mr.  Bryant  has  added  no  little 
to  the  richness  of  the  world's  treasures 
by  the  creations  of  his  own  thought, 
we  cannot  avoid  the  conviction  that 
this  library  of  selections  is  among  his 
greatest  services  to  the  average  read 
er.  In  this  hurried  life  one  cannot 
afford  to  waste  much  time  on  inferior 
productions.  It  is  half  the  battle  to 
know  what  to  read." — N,  V.  Chris 
tian 


IBOO:K:S, 

PUBLISHED  AND  IN  PRESS,  BY 


FORDS,  HOWARD&HULBERT. 


HAERIET  BEEOHER  STOWE'S  WORKS. 

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POGANUC    PEOPLE:     Their  Loves  and  Lives.     A  Novel.     Recent. 

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A  DOG'S  MISSION,  and  Other  Tales.     Together  with  "OUR 

CHARLIE,"  and  other  famous  favorites.     Small  410.     Illustrated i  25 

QUEER  LITTLE  PEOPLE.  Stories  of  " The  Hen  that  Hatched 
Ducks,"  and  various  other  birds,  beasts  and  insects.  New  edition,  with 
added  material.  Small  410,  cloth.  Illustrated i  25 

LITTLE  PUSSY  WILLOW.  A  charming  Story  for  Girls.  New 
edition,  enlarged  by  the  addition  of  "THE  MINISTER'S  WATER 
MELONS,"  a  capital  Story  for  Boys.  Small  410,  cloth.  Illustrated i  25 

BRILLIANT  STORIES. 
CAMP  AND  CABIN:    Sketches  of  Life  and  Travel   in  the  West.     By 

ROSSITEK  W.  RAYMOND.     Little  Classic  style,  red  edges.   i  oo 

UNTO  THE  THIRD  AND  FOURTH   GENERATION. 

A  Novel.     By  HELEN  CAMPBELL.     i6mo,  extra  cloth,  beveled  boards. i  oo 

Ready  Early  in  November. 

THE  LOVERS  OF  PROVENCE.  A  MS.  Romance  of  the  Xllth 
Century.  Rendered  into  modern  French  by  ALEXANDRE  BIDA.  Preface 
and  revision  of  original  text  by  GASTON  PARIS.  Translated  into  English 
verse  and  prose  by  A.  R.  MACDONOUGH.  Printed  on  toned  paper,  with  red 
marginal  rule.  Illustrated  with  sixteen  engravings,  after  designs  by  ALEX 
ANDER  BIDA,  MARY  HALLOCK  FOOTE,  FREDERICK  DIELMAN  and  W. 
HAMILTON  GIBSON.  Full  calf,  gilt,  $5.00 ;  cloth,  gilt 3  50 

LIFE;AND  TIITIES  OF  SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  A  Me- 

morial  of  one  whose  name  is  a  synonym  for  every  manly  virtue.  By  Mrs. 
S.  M.  HENRY  DAVIS.  Illustrated  with  steel  plates.  Large  paper  edition, 
with  red-line  marginal  rule,  on  large,  heavy  cream-laid  paper.  Cloth,  bev 
eled,  panel  side,  with  Sidney's  Coat-of-Arms,  gilt  top,  uncut  edges 3  50 

In  Preparation. 

JOHN  H.  RAYMOND:  His  Life  and  Letters.  Edited  by 
his  Daughter.  A  most  interesting  account  of  the  Life  and  Labors  of  the 
late  President  of  Vassar  College.  With  Contributed  Papers  from  various 
distinguished  Professional  Men.  8vo,  about  400  pp.  With  Steel  Portrait,  a  25 

THE  E  \SIEST  W\Y  IN  HOUSEKEEPING  AND 
COOKING.  Adapted  to  Home  Use  or  School  Study.  By  HELKN  S. 
CAMPBELL,  the  Superintendent  of  the  Raleigh  (N.  C.)  Cooking-School. 
A  book  for  Jatnilifs  in  moderate  circumstances,  alike  in  Town  and  Coun 
try.  i6mo,  about  200  pp.,  cloth I  oo 


UN1VERSI™ 


Return  to  desk  from  which  botrowed 
^  last  date  staged 


7'Oct'58FC 


19Nov'5t 


k 


REC'D  LD 

191960 


JAN  31 '64  4 

21JuiT65LM 
AUG20 


D  21-} 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  LIBRARY 


